Explain to Me Exactly When We Lost Control
by dhalgren99
Summary: On an unnamed port sometime before the events of "A New Hope" or whatever they call it now , Han Solo winds up hiring a stranded Wolverine for what the latter thinks is a simple run. That swiftly proves not to be the case. At all.
1. Explain to Me Exactly When We Lost

This is a big one. I'm not going to lie. This was the first fic I ever did, so it reads like one of my normal stories, just with characters that I didn't create. Whether this is a good thing or not you'll have to decide.

A few introductory notes, then. I'll try to keep the rambling down to a minimum.

_Characters_: Wolverine is an amalgamation of the movie and comic book versions, although the basics are the same so it shouldn't throw too many people off.

Han Solo is . . . sort of the movie version. Or at least how I remember him. I don't read the Expanded Universe stuff and thus know nothing about his early life. So I basically made it all up from scratch because it worked better for the story. So if you're going to write me an angry message telling me about how such and such I wrote is contradicted by this or that book . . . the kindest possible way I can put this is that I don't care. It does take place before the movies, however, to make my life easier.

Obviously, they and all related characters (Star Wars, X-Men, etc) are not owned by me and I was just briefly playing in the sandbox. Everyone else was either already part of my repertory or I made up entirely for the story. Which means that the spaceport and basically every alien and/or incidental character you come across is mine.

I set the tale in my little universe, so there's a lot of background reference to events that were currently going on at the time. None of these should break the story, but if you're curious about any side references, by all means, ask. I didn't want the story to be all exposition so I try to explain as we go along and hope everyone catches up.

And this is turning into rambling. I'll try to have other notes for the other sections. Rest assured it is finished, although it may take me a bit to post it. It's long!

So with that said, let me get out of the way, barring one brief dedication, if you'll indulge me . . .

_For Lauren, who inadvertently gave me the idea and put up with all the funny names, for showing patience when I started to get too clever for my own good, and for applauding in all the right spots. But mostly, for not at any point thinking this was nuts, even when I did._

Now, are we all sitting comfortably? Let's begin!

* * *

The air was soaked in smoke, curling around every hooked word.

". . . _been sitting there for an hour, hasn't said a word . . ._"

Punctuated with barked spiked sounds that could have been laughter, the sudden thud of flesh on bone, the slap of a deal being made.

". . . _just walked in, never seen him before, some flatlander asked him to move and he just took his hand and . . ._"

Glasses clinked, tubes hummed, the scrape of a face thrown taut against the wood, flailing and tilted.

". . . _been trying to scan him and, pal, you've got to see this . . ._"

Music burbled in circular chords, trying to hold back the latent violence that shivered overhead and around.

". . . _look at him, just, he's so small, that's what you're afraid of . . ."_

Bodies crashed together in peripheral dances, motions that were both expected and inevitable, out of time with a hiccupping that was coming from every corner.

". . . _probably a trooper gone missing, they all come here to hide . . ._"

At the bar, two hands thumped wetly on the counter.

"Aye, debris," the bartender's trunk twitched as he said it, "you find a drink here? Or find space to consume? Decide soon, jaggy, or." The dark coinpits of his eyes flashed, reflecting laser fire that could be buried in the smoke, or a memory from some time ago.

". . . _that's him, over there, that's the guy . . ._"

The man in question stirred, his gaze flicking with a rapid focus from nowhere in particular to the bartender. His eyes seemed older than the rest of his face, piercing and set. Leaning forward, he regarded the bartender with a coiled ease, the smudged polish of the counter still managing to reflect the hard angles of his features, right down to the controlled and pointed sweep of his hair.

"Sure," he said, in a friendly drawl, "what's the house specialty?" He shifted a bit on the stool, causing the dark leather in his jacket to creak slightly. His hands were flat on the counter, fingers facing the bartender, and very still.

The bartender blinked with milky membranes, pink skin flushing slightly. His fleshy lips curled briefly upwards behind the mass of his proboscis. "Ah. Ah. Taste, you know them all, eh? Been here, been there, all the scattered zones. And back, even?" The man only inclined his head in what might have been acknowledgement. The bartender leaned forward, preparing to share a great secret. The man didn't move back, but one of his hands twitched. "No taste, this scum here. Drink whatever squizz gets placed before. No taste, spacedust they. Ah, but siryou. Sir . . ."

The man raised an eyebrow, his only concession.

"_. . . rumors that the shutdown is going to come any day now . . ._"

Slippery hands ducked under the bar, came up with a squat glass filled with a dark liquid. He had barely seemed to pour it. "The vine-pits of Choinodos, fresh from, with heads. Heads that ring and leak, yolly all. And cringus, they know, if you know . . ." his lips pulled back from stained teeth in what might have been a smile. "Gets this, gets you. For you . . ." his fingers caressed the lip of the cup, smearing the glass. He slid it forward. "Go on."

". . . _telling you, what are we going to do, the whole situation is . . ._"

"On the house?" the man asked, taking the glass tentatively. Lifting it to his face, he swirled it a bit, giving it a light sniff.

"Aye, yolly."

". . . _do? For starters I was thinking of just walking right up to him and . . ."_

"Well, then," the man said, tipping it forward in a toast. His elbow was on the bar, with the knuckles of his hand only inches away from the bartender's face. "You don't leave me any choice but to . . ."

"Ah, _don't_, pal . . ." and he was there suddenly, razorfast and ramshackle, putting his hand over the top of the cup. Leaning up against the bar, he regarded the other man with a tilted head and slightly cocky grin. His hand never wavered, even as the other's eyes narrowed just a fraction. "You really don't want to do that. Trust me."

"You got a reason for butting in?" he asked, his gaze taking in the length of the newcomer, the scruffy black and white contrast of his shirt-vest combination, his round face and unruly mop of hair and especially the pistol that dangled almost laconically from his belt.

"Just a concerned citizen looking out for his fellow man," the newcomer offered with a shrug.

"You hear, Solo. An airlock, go. Not here." The bartender finished with a cross between a snort and a guffaw but the end of his trunk was twitching. His eyes kept flickering back and forth between the two of them without being willing to rest anywhere. "Jaggy your word, less than prisms . . ."

"Oh, can the routine, Gokul," Solo shot back, leaning further against the bar. By this time the other man was lowering his glass, giving Solo a chance to remove his hand from the vicinity. "See, pal, our fair bartender here, he sees you, realizes he's never seen you before, thinks you're an easy mark. Gives you a brew from the farflung reaches of _Choinodos_, makes you think you've stumbled onto something special. Right?"

The bartender was already reaching for the glass, trying to slide it away with his trunk. With a quick motion, Solo pounded on the appendage, causing him to cough and draw it back sharply. "Thing is, place is quarantined from all space routes. Nobody leaves there, nobody goes there. And nobody . . ." he grabbed the cup, brought it up to his face so that the edges of his features were flattened and distorted when seen through it, ". . . is getting _this_ cheap garbage from there."

"It's good, is good. Speak as it is, gully now." By this time Gokul had turned a shade of reddish blue and was shaking slightly. "Empire, no, won't see, won't care."

Solo laughed quietly. "Come on, let's not be cute." Turning back to the man, he said, "You see-"

"It was drugged." This came out offhanded, the man wasn't even staring at them but toward a spot on the shrouded ceiling, now flush with a mix of dingy multicolored smoke. There was a vague frown on his face.

Solo folded his arms over his chest, looking pleased. "Well."

The other man shrugged, his eyes everywhere but them. "I've never been here before. That doesn't mean I'm an idiot."

"So you'll be taking off soon, then." The other man didn't react. Solo risked moving a little closer. "Pushing off into the next port of call, hm?"

The man glanced over his shoulder. "You're awful nosy. That's probably a habit you want to break yourself out of."

"You're here by yourself," Solo said suddenly, the smile gone from his face. "You're not part of any crew, because you've only been here a day or so and I know everyone who's come in that time. So you're either a freelancer between jobs, or you're lost."

With deadly slowness the man turned around. Even perched on the stool he wasn't nearly as tall as Solo was standing. One hand kept clenching and unclenching, finding its own flexibility. Compact as he was, there was a tautness in him waiting to be uncoiled.

In the face of it, Solo only smiled beatifically. "Am I close?" Without waiting for an answer he extended his hand. "Han Solo, nice to meet you."

The other man didn't return the gesture or offer his name. The bartender seemed to relax as he realized that neither man was paying attention to him anymore, his hands loosening their grip from around his trunk. Even so, he stepped a few inches back from the bar.

"What exactly do you want?" Almost as an afterthought he added, "_Pal_."

"Good, a man who gets right down to business. I like that." He clapped his hands together. "I'm going to lay it out for you straight. I'm a trader . . ." the chuckle that came from the back of the bar wasn't a laugh at all but a patron with a segmented face pouring a long tube down one of its pores. Solo let himself look wounded anyway. ". . . a trader about to go on a run through some dangerous territory. My partner had to go back home temporarily, so I'm down a man." He studied the man's face for some kind of clue but couldn't find any.

Then he started to get down off the stool. "So you're lonely. That's not my problem."

"Listen." Solo's arm darted out to grab the man by his forearm. Suddenly there were rods tensing under his skin that almost made Solo pull back entirely. The man only glared at him, the order silent but clear. Not that it stopped him. "You're alone out here and looking for a way off. Right now I'm the best offer you're going to get unless you want to stow away or ride a slaver." He removed his hand but the man didn't turn away. "You watch my back, I watch yours, we get through the run. No drudge work, you ride on my ship, you're part of my team, not my servant. A hundred credits up front, two hundred when we reach final port. From there you can use that to hire any liner you want to get where you need to go." He settled back again, the grin sliding over his face. "Like I said, best offer you're going to get, today or any day. What do you say?"

The man looked away quickly but when he glanced back at Solo his eyes were intent, studying every detail to an uncomfortable degree. "How long is the run?"

"Couple days at best. There's nothing faster than my ship." Another coughed laugh from across the room, smoke wove above them as a discarded snake. Voices counted down numbers as chants, flared with decay.

"What are you transporting?" Solo tensed, hearing the decision bearing on his answer to that question. He rubbed his hands together, slid them into his pockets, laid back cocky and casual. The other man held himself tense, ready to spring forward or disappear in a second, at any second. Or so it felt.

"Spices." He was watching him so closely, this man. Close without getting closer. "Where we're going, they're in demand but the season only lasts for a cycle. By the time everyone gets there, it's over. Everyone but me. But us."

"Us?" One fingernail is scraping against the bar, precise and poised.

"You've already accepted," Solo said, letting himself relax a little. "Or you would have walked out by now. You're just waiting for me to realize it." He went to clap the man on the shoulder, thought better of it. "Welcome aboard."

"Yeah," was all the man said, the word diffuse and offhand. Two ruffians with bulbous eyes were choking each other, but Solo knew it was just ritual. That was how they passed information to each other, via hard touch. The bartender had slid over to the next patron, trying to convince a creature without a visible mouth to imbibe. He seemed to be making progress.

"Let's go, then, we don't want to waste any-" Maybe it was the skittery noises outside, somehow cutting through the din. Or the hairs on the back of his neck. Or another sense without a name, setting off alarm bells in his head.

Whichever, it was no warning at all.

With a sound like a rocket failing, the door flashed grey and burst open, smoke flooding in to mingle with the darker ambient smoke.

"What?" "What?" "What?" Piercing, it was a scream that went right through the back of the brain, shouting down all other hails. Figures moved in the haze, trudging in without hesitation or friction, the white of their armor a contrast against the dimness of the bar. Entirely cloaked, their helmets were curved and revealed nothing of the faces underneath. A slit ran across it where the eyes would have been, opaque and searching. Six of them stepped inside, with more taking positions behind them. All were carrying rifles, the barrels of which were pointed up at the patrons. Primed, the pitched whining of the weapons suggested a violence that strode in ready and was perhaps eagerly waiting.

"Empire!" came the shout and a gnarled brown being, his body seemingly covered in rustling leaves, broke and made for the back of the room. In an easy motion the nearest trooper rang out a shot, the beam passing almost silently through the man. A portion of his chest hit the far wall as light droplets and he fell with barely a whimper.

Near Solo, the man clenched his fist, his mouth drawn in a tight line.

"Where is he?" the lead soldier demanded, the helmet muffling the voice but not the malevolence. "He was seen here and was not seen leaving, so we know he's inside. Do not make us guess or we will shoot every piece of scum in this hole to be sure."

"Give us a name, and maybe we can help." The speaker had a round face and tusks, dressed in dusted leather. "Easy, right? No need for violence. No need."

"No deals, no bargaining. No offers." The soldier twitched his left hand and the man who had spoken suddenly fell backwards off the chair, smoke rising from his face. "Show us Han Solo, now." Rifles swept the room, soldiers pervading the room with swift efficiency.

The other man's eyes grew wide and he stared at Solo, who was turned around and leaning against the bar, both arms pressed down on it. He seemed to sense the man glancing at him and shook his head, ever so slightly.

"Come now," the lead soldier sneered, although the effect was lost without being able to see his face. "You've got no loyalty among you, no reason to lie or hide him. I know you, you value your lives over everything else. Over everyone else. He'd sell you out in a heartbeat, given the chance." He stopped, trained his rifle on a man with mottled skin and eyes stacked one over the other on his face. "Every last one."

"Here." All the soldiers turned as one to face the source of the call. The bartender was pointing with his trunk toward the end of the counter. "There he's stally, sit there, rest. Over." Without turning, Solo dipped his head a little bit and sighed.

"It's him." One soldier was already moving across the room when another spoke. "I saw his holo once."

"Okay, it's me." Hands raised to shoulder level, Solo turned around, his expression slightly exasperated. "You've got me, although I'm not sure what you want with me." It was said with all the innocence he could muster.

"Oh, we'll explain it to you in great detail later. You'll have plenty of time to ask all the questions you want." A third had joined them, while others remained on the other side of the bar to prevent anyone from leaving. "You won't be going anywhere for some time."

"Isn't that nice," Solo shot back sarcastically. Slowly he lowered his hands so that his palms were braced on the bar. The lasers were trained on his chest, but he barely radiated concern. The other man seemed to be watching both sides of the exchange carefully, his hands kept loosely at his sides. "But before you take me away, I'm only going to ask one favor of you."

"Fine, Solo," the lead trooper said, sounding amused.

Solo inclined his head to the left. "Leave my partner alone, okay? He didn't do anything."

The other man stared at Solo in stunned silence, his lips mouthing "What?" as half the guns swung about to cover him as well.

"You're with Solo?" the demand came.

"Yeah, who says I'm hard to work with?" With a smooth motion Solo produced the laser that he had hidden behind his back earlier, squeezing off two quick shots on the troopers that were still covering him, already moving even as they fell to the floor, guns dropping with a clatter and smoke rising from shattered helmets and burn marks on the armor. "Move it, pal!"

"Get them both!" But the other man was already in motion, weighted and impossibly fluid, reaching out with one hand to force the nearest soldier's weapon down and using the other hand to punch him in the face at the same time. There was a _crack_ as his helmet shattered and he went reeling backwards even as the man, a certain fire in his eyes, shifted to the next one, his next action seemingly planned out before the first was done. He grabbed the rifle before it hit the floor, reversed his grip on it and swung it at the next trooper, breaking it against his armor.

Two down, but more were piling in, and beginning to fire indiscriminately. Solo picked off a few shots, tagging some as they came in the doorway. Soon the air became too thick with laser fire and he flipped over the bar, landing roughly on the floor, pistol held closely to his body. The bar shuddered as something heavy thudded into it and a man made a noise like choking. Laser fire gouged into the surface above him, sending tiny chips raining down. A few feet away, the bartender was cowering, occasionally peeking over the top.

Solo crawled a ways down the bar, swearing under his breath. The floor was just as dirty as he might have imagined, discarded garbage and scrunched debris that he had no wish to identify. Above the din had resolved into a screaming roar bracketed by cages of laser blasts. He couldn't tell how many troops had entered the bar now, all the shouts were mingling together, the bar not shielding him from the chorus at all.

Suddenly a shadow passed overhead, shaped into a point. Rolling slightly, the other man landed lightly and deftly, coming to rest easily in a crouch. He was breathing fast but evenly, his hair matted down against his head. There were spots of soot streaking his face but he otherwise showed no sign he'd been in a fight. Or was still in a fight, as the bar rattled again and a hand dangled down, limp and unmoving.

His gaze immediately found Solo and there was a simmering anger lurking inside. "Know what's good to know when you're being hired?" Solo eased his weapon so that it was in front of him but otherwise said nothing. "Whether your employer is being hunted or not."

"I may have left out a few details," Solo admitted. "But we really didn't have time to go into all the small stuff. There'll be plenty more to discuss when we get back to my ship, so just stick with me and-"

"With _you_?" The man looked prepared to throttle Solo right there. His voice was a razor edged whisper, slicing through the blossoming carnage beyond them. "All you've done so far is get me shot at."

"That's a pity." Solo frowned. "You didn't seem like the type of man who would go back on a deal." The man twitched and he wondered how far back he'd have to move to stay out of his reach. Fortunately he had short arms. "Besides, that's not true. I kept you from overpaying for a drink."

The man's eyes narrowed. "You can go find another idiot to-"

"The thing is . . ." Solo shifted so that his legs were underneath him, ready to move. "The only other exit is through the back." He pointed in that direction with the barrel of his gun. "So unless you want to take your chances with fighting every stormtrooper they can cram into this place . . ." he spread his arms in the limited space and smiled slyly. ". . . looks you're stuck with me for a bit longer."

The man looked ready to snarl back a vicious response when he suddenly looked up. The laser beam ricocheted off the floor between them, forcing Solo to first dive back and then slide out, his pistol leading the way. But the man leapt upwards like cloth unfurling, one hand closing around the soldier's throat while he made a fist and pressed his knuckles against the trooper's chest. His attacker jerked as the man, his face grim, twisted his fist against the armor. A second later he yanked his hand away as the man went limp, the top of it now covered in bright smears of blood. He shoved the body away and prepared to duck down again, a question for Solo on his lips.

Just then another soldier popped up and fired, the beam striking the man squarely in the ribs. With a choked "_ah_" the man spun and flailed, failing to hit anyone on his way down.

"No!" Solo yelled, rolling further out into open and squeezing off two barely aimed shots. The first glanced off the armor but the second hit the soldier directly in the face, and he fell away abruptly.

Solo scuttled toward the man, whose eyes were closed and his face turned away, moving aside his jacket to get a closer look at the wound. It was red and raw, mostly cauterized but with some blood leaking out from the edges. It looked bad, laying the skin open almost to the bone. Solo frowned as he peered at it, noting that something didn't look right. In fact, it looked as if . . .

A hand suddenly clamped down on Solo's wrist, shoving his arm away. Surprised, he looked up to see the other man staring at him, while his free hand pulled the jacket down to cover the wound. "You were saying about an exit?"

"Yeah," Solo replied, without expression. Nearby there was the sound of more boots stomping into the building. "This way."

With Solo leading, the two of them continued crawling behind the bar. The bartender was ahead of them, pressing himself against the wall as much as he could, although whether it was to make himself a smaller target or to avoid them wasn't certain. His eyes seemed rounded and his skin paler and there were several scorch marks on the wall near him. Solo passed him by without comment.

The other man, in a motion so casual it seemed practiced, reached out and punched the bartender squarely in the face. His trunk stiffened and he went slightly cross-eyed before slumping to the floor.

Solo glanced back at him, one eyebrow raised. Shrugging, the other man said, "I meant to do that before."

"I knew there was a reason I hired you," Solo said, unable to resist a grin. The other man frowned and said nothing else.

Seconds later they reached the end of the bar. A few laser shots streaked past the gap between the bar and the room beyond, and Solo jumped back, nearly crashing into the other man. Even with the brief brush he was startled by how _solid_ the man felt.

"You know," he said, taking a moment to find his footing again, "we've almost gotten killed together, but I still don't know your name."

"Logan." Even said quickly there was still lingering hesitation in his voice, like he had been about to say something else.

"Well, Logan, it's a pleasure . . ." he said over his shoulder, darting across the distance. As he tumbled from space to space he caught a glimpse of the rest of the bar. Troopers were stalking the smoke-choked common area like white phantoms, the room occasionally lit by refracted laser light. Darkened bodies stumbled through the murk, some haphazardly returning fire. Voices called out, in shouts, in other languages, too many silenced before the final words were expelled.

He had his laser up and ready even as he catapulted into the other room, nearly careening into boxes and assorted objects he couldn't make out in the dimness. A second later Logan arrived, as he had expected, hugging the wall and staring out into the carnage like a man haunted.

"They're killing everyone in there." His voice was flattened and dead. He kept closing his hand into a fist and opening it again.

"Yeah." It was the only real reply he had. Immediately he had moved to the back of the small room, his hands feeling along the walls. "Make sure they don't spot us." One time he had _seen_ someone sneak out this way, it had to be around here somewhere.

Logan didn't answer but his posture seemed to be leaning forward, as if he was ready to plunge back into the room again. Solo silently vowed to not rescue him if he became that stupid. Whatever the reason was, they were out for blood in there.

"What are you looking for?"

"There's a hidden door over here . . . for people who are looking to be inconspicuous, they slip the bartender a few credits and out they go." He frowned, running his fingers along the stone. "But there's a recessed switch that opens it and . . ."

"A few inches up from where your left hand is."

Almost automatically Solo moved his hand and with a quiet click the wall suddenly slid open. As the dank outside air washed in, Solo stared at Logan, who hadn't moved from his position in the archway. Across the room, his eyes seemed to catch the light and hold it ever so slightly.

"Let's go," Solo said brusquely, and left.

*****

"Who were they?"

They had emerged in a narrow alley behind the bar and into the night cycle of the port. The buildings around them were squat and dirty, while the ground underfoot was metal, clanging dully as they moved across it. The air around them had a sterile odor to it, tinged with hints of oil and dust. Above the sky opened up wide, curving in star saturated darkness, with the occasionally streak of a passing craft. Somewhat distant a few blocky ships hovered overhead, beyond the shield, waiting for docking ports to open up.

Solo peeked around a corner, pistol held close to his chest. Logan was inches behind him but he could barely tell he was there at all.

"Stormtroopers." Seeing the way clear he motioned for Logan to follow, darting across to the other side. The streets seemed oddly deserted, even for the night cycle, especially since the port took ships in all the time. More unsavory business might be done at that time but there was still a certain bustle to the place.

"Stormtroopers." He pronounced it like he was testing the word out. "Don't they sound pleasant."

"Muscle for the Empire." Sensing another question, he added, "I don't know what they're doing all the way out here though. Technically it's controlled territory, but we're on the fringes. A lot of others use this port as well, so the Empire has always stayed hands-off here to avoid starting trouble with someone they don't want to mess with."

"Apparently they're here for you."

"So it seems," Solo said, frowning, waving a hand as they dashed between two more buildings. They were moving into the warehouse districts now, where the buildings were set up more in a grid. Droids rattled past in silence, not paying them any heed. "All the way out here," he muttered to himself as he hugged the wall. "And not normally this vicious, either."

"And you've got no idea why that might be?"

Solo shrugged without looking back. "Your guess is as good as mine." Thinking he heard a noise, he held for a minute, one hand up to halt Logan. When the moment passed without incident he said, "Wait, weren't you the one telling me I ask too many questions?"

He could almost _hear_ the man bristle. "When people start shooting at me, I start getting curious."

"Fair enough." Solo turned to face him, and noticed that the shadows seem to drape over him somehow, and take him further in. "You could walk away though."

"Wouldn't matter, they know my face, they think I'm with you. They're looking for me just the same."

"And you have nowhere else to go." There was no flicker of reaction on Logan's face, but Solo knew it was true just the same. He knew wandering and he knew lost and how to tell the difference.

Logan folded his arms over his chest, and when he spoke his voice was lower, almost a growl. "Did you know they were looking for you when you hired me?"

"No." The two men locked gazes for a few seconds, neither saying a word. Solo was the one to break it finally, spinning away and saying, "Come on, we can't stay in one place."

Logan made a small noise but followed. Shortly afterwards he added, "So, they're after you. You going to find out why?"

"That's," Solo said, "where we're going next."

*****

Triple-jointed fingers moved the electronic stacks into neat piles. The air sweltered with hydroponic moistness, carried along in breathable waves. "I have to ask, Han Solo," the man with the deep-set eyes behind the table noted, "do you have some clause in your contracts that state all that your associates must be hairy?"

"For your sake, I'm going to ignore that." Out of the corner of his eye, Solo saw Logan step forward then stop as he eyed the skeletal droids lining the walls, all with lasers pointed in their general direction. Even so, he suspected the man was calculating how fast he could reach the table.

"Oh ha ha." It was stated as words, an alien's imagining of what laughter sounded like. His skin was a greenish tint and the back of his head was elongated. Words fell from his lipless mouth like silken razors. "Your time away has done nothing to dampen your sense of humor, Han." He tilted his head to the side slightly. "_How much of a bribe is he asking for now?_"

"What?" Logan glanced at Solo, who only shook his head, motioning for silence.

"It is good to see you returned, however." He was pacing behind the table, fingers trailing and tracing the edge. "_That's not acceptable. Remind him that his family's cryogenic stasis can easily be revoked._ Really, though, Solo, you took a bit longer than usual this time."

"It was still well within the deadline, Argylin." One of the droids along the wall stirred, as if alerted by the tone of his voice. Solo kept his hands at his sides, knowing that "oops" and "I'm sorry" weren't in the droids' vocabularies.

"Oh, I know that. Anyone else, I wouldn't question it, but for _you_, with a ship like yours . . . _of course, by all means make yourselves comfortable._ Well, it's notable, at the very least." He clasped his hands behind his back, took a few steps away from the table. "You went off course for part of it," Argylin said calmly, regarding the ceiling. "_Perhaps then we need to kill him and have him replaced with another._"

"There was an Imperial fleet along the course that I didn't expect, so I had to detour." Next to him Logan was rubbing his knuckles and seemed to be sizing up the droids. Solo hoped he wasn't going to start a fight, that was the last thing they needed.

"_They're not going to seal the port, we need that rumor stopped_."

"Who the hell is he talking to?" Logan whispered.

"Triple-lobed brain," Solo shot back, his lips barely moving. "His race can carry on multiple conversations at once. He's probably got communicators wired into his head."

Argylin pivoted swiftly, though if he had heard them he gave no sign. "You didn't just detour, you jumped."

"The stuff got where it needed to go. The rest of it isn't your business."

The alien looked him up and down. "_For one, because this is an Iconan refueling stop and they'll declare war at the smallest excuse._ You're not even going to ask how I know this? _Don't be coy, you know as well as I do they can't risk it. _What happened to that vaunted curiosity?"

"You have your secrets and I'll keep mine."

Argylin rubbed his hands together. His eyes were cold and unblinking, stones set in a solid face. When he spoke to people who weren't present there was a certain echo to his voice, as if the words were being piped in from a different part of his brain and rearranged on other wings, to be sent away. "_That's fine, but certain guarantees are going to be required first_. Very well, but if we're going to compare secrets, it seems that yours are by far the more popular. There's practically an entire platoon of stormtroopers flooding the port and they all seem to be looking for you. _If the cargo is short, he's going to have to account for it one way or another. Start with his carapace._"

"That's why I'm here. I was hoping you might have an idea." Solo wiped some sweat off his forehead and risked taking a few steps closer to the table. One of the droids nearby twitched he kept his hands up and it relented. Argylin watched him without reaction. "Have they said anything? Have they given any kind of clue?"

Argylin regarded him, leaned forward so that his eyes were level his Solo's. His skin seemed to ripple, was almost translucent. "You don't know. Oh, mark this day in the logs." He clapped his hands together and stood up straight. "_We've opened a docking bay, tell them to slip in. Good, good. Standby_. Is it because you choose not to know or because you've done so many things that you just aren't sure anymore?"

"Can the sarcasm, Argylin," Solo warned.

"Why could they possibly want him?" It was Logan who spoke this time. Both men shifted their gazes toward him, but he stood with ramrod ease. "No offense, Han, but you're just a smuggler. And it seems strange that they'd go through all this trouble to capture a single smuggler." His eyes flickered from one to the other. "That's just how it seems to me. But maybe I'm wrong." Said with a laconic deference.

"_If you're going to give me trouble over this, I assure you, I won't deny you. I won't need to. I simply will not lift a finger._"

"Maybe it's part of a crackdown," Solo suggested. "My name is pretty well known, so maybe they're going after me first."

"No, no." There was a blur to Argylin's voice and it wasn't clear who he was speaking to at first. "That's not it. _Absolutely, it can be arranged to our mutual satisfaction. _The onslaught of soldiers has made our . . . element a bit spooked but they've made no inroads into anyone else. You'd think they'd take advantage of the disarray but so far . . . nothing." His face tilted downwards and he exhaled through nostril-flaps in what might have been amusement. "_Is it separate sightings confirmed? Truly? _It appears that they are only searching for you. And they aren't going to stop." He turned sideways slightly and interlaced his fingers together. "Whatever you've done, Solo, you have their full attention."

"Congratulations," Logan muttered.

"Stuff it," Solo shot back.

"No, save it, it's a rare honor." Argylin cast his eyes to the ceiling, pacing about in taut, lengthy strides. "_We're going to have to agree on a signal, then. _Your . . . assistant? is very perceptive." He stared down at Logan. "Indeed, some might say he's quite a bit cannier. But . . . what _are_ you, sir?" His fingers traced the air in front of him, as if sketching out the possibilities. "_No, you can stop checking. I have what I need_. There's no record of you on any manifest, not with that bioprint and even so . . ."

"I'm just passing through." Logan rocked back on his heels then slowly slid to balance on the balls of his feet. "I'm just a man, travelling."

"_It needs to be done now. They won't keep for that long, it must be moved. _Perhaps, but no, no." He stepped forward, body arched in near-fascination. "You're either lying or mistaken. You're something different, something new." One hand reached out and came inches from Logan's arm, tracing a route along the skin toward his wrist. The other man's nostrils flared but that was the only sign. "_Of course, if that's what you have to do. We all have needs_. We've never seen the likes of you out here, in our desolate reaches."

"He's with me," Solo said. "That's all you need to know."

"Yes? But why is he still here? A kind of loyalty, or something else?" He switched his attention back to Logan again. "They aren't searching for you."

"Now they are."

"_Tell him to hold until the proper time. _Ah, but these are strange days we have. Troopers all along the port, a man," one hand lazily waved toward Logan, who this time took a step back, "who isn't what he thinks." Solo tried to catch Logan's eye on that statement but whatever Logan was staring at, nobody else could see. "You could walk out now, you know. It's not your problem."

"You trying to hire away my help?" There was a tightness in his jaw as he asked the question.

Logan didn't look at Solo. "I said what I'd do. And I'll do it."

"Very well," Argylin said, folding his arms together. He strolled back to his table, shifted a few more cards. One was blinking furiously but he calmly turned it over. "_Trail them, but don't let them see you. _I've had your ship moved, Han."

The notion immediately put Solo on edge. "You expect me to thank you?"

"I doubt you're capable of it," Argylin replied coolly. "It was too exposed in its dock, so we towed it to an unused dock in the Comout sector. They abandoned it after the war when all the ships were pulled back. They won't be returning for some time."

"When were you going to tell me this?" Solo demanded, walking right up to the table. The droids whirred but Argylin motioned and they lowered their weapons, although they didn't move back. Logan watched them warily. "These people are trying to _kill_ me and you're making harder for me to get my ass out of here-"

"They don't want you dead," Argylin said coldly. "Very much the opposite. _Be serious, he's not going anywhere. He has no reason to._"

"He's right," Logan said. "It's not you they want, it's something you know. Or have."

"How do you know this? How do you know any of this?" Solo pivoted between them, flinging the question out as if the force of it might force one of them to answer. "Maybe they have the wrong person, maybe . . . whatever," he snorted, strode away from the table. "Come on," he said to Logan, "let's go find my ship and get the hell out of here."

"It's not that simple, Han," Argylin called out. Solo halted, stance poised and eyes narrowed. One hand lingered near his belt, near the laser. "_Of course, I'd like the tradeways clear first. But that can be argued out later._ I told you these were strange times. Inseptons have been sighted at the port. More than one. Separately."

All of a sudden, Solo grew slightly pale. Or maybe it was the wetness sheen, the light reflected off the hazed walls. "So what? It could be a coincidence, or an accident." His hand was wrapped around the grip of his laser. A droid twitched, humming.

"What does that mean?" Logan asked sharply, his voice a deft bark.

"I think we both know better than that. _I've done everything you've asked._" He was gathering up his cards, stacking them so they interlocked into smaller units. "_I've kept them here long enough. It's up to you now_."

"Do you hear that?" Logan asked, looking around quickly. "Han, do you hear that-"

Solo's weapon was out, pointed directly at Argylin's head. "So help me there won't be enough to put one brain back together out of the mess! Why are they here? What did you do?" The charged whine of it underscored his words.

Argylin didn't seem to be paying attention anymore. "_I imagine you have it surrounded_. _That's only to be expected."_ The slit of his mouth twitched upwards in a semblance of a smile. "There were two prices, you know. That's what I couldn't resist."

"Han, I think we have to get out of here."

"You son of a bitch," Han snarled. The arm holding the weapon was shaking. Logan was backing away, arms out as if to balance on unstable ground. The droids were beginning to raise their cannons.

"The price of doing this. And the price of what could be done." He shrugged too thin shoulders, delicately placed the chips in his front pocket. "I hope you won't blame me for this, in the end. _Yes, please. Yes_."

The air shimmered with the sound of escalating sonics. From the edges of the nearest door came a blistering glow and beyond that, a deeper hum.

"_You can come in whenever you'd like_."

"Han!"

"Oh . . ." Argylin paused in his turning away and added almost as an afterthought, "and droids, feel free to kill the other one."

Perhaps a dozen lasers were raised.

"I swear, Argylin, I'll-"

The first fired shot was drowned out by Logan's roar as he launched himself across the room, the edges of his jacket flaring out behind him. The droids held their ground and at least one caught him with a grazing shot even as he crashed into them, slamming him up against the wall.

"They'll be along to get you in but a moment, I imagine," Argylin said, somehow making his voice heard over the din of crisscrossing lasers. "_You lost track? I'm certain they will turn up again, it's not like they can easily blend_. Unless you're going to do something pointlessly vengeful and shoot me."

"You're not just letting them in?" Han said, although the barrel of his laser hadn't wavered.

He waved a hand. "Oh, of course not. There's realistic trust and then there's the foolish kind. If they want it badly enough, they'll figure out a way inside." The door was glowing brighter now, even as a droid skidded across the floor, squeezing off sparks and screeching, its laser firing uselessly into the ceiling. He stared right into the heart of the weapon. "I do hope you're not going to take this personally."

"How could I?" Solo said grimly and shot Argylin in the face.

"_No, I might be a little bit delayed_," Argylin answered casually as the laser bounced off a forcefield that shimmered into existence around his body. "You know, your kind always plays to type, in all my time I-" He stopped, his colorless eyes widening ever so slightly, drifting to a point past Solo. "Oh, my," he said, so very softly.

It took Solo a second to realize that nearly all sound in the room had stopped except for a very methodical banging and tearing. Slowly, he turned around.

The room was strewn with wreckage and the remnants of the droids, remains of arms and heads and parts of metal that were no longer identifiable. In the center of crouched Logan, quite calmly smashing a droid into the floor and rendering it an unrecognizable mess. It squawked once and fell silent, leaving Logan's heavy breathing as the only prominent noise in the room. His hair was pressed flat against his head and his face was drenched in sweat. His jacket was sliced in numerous places and still smoking in others, revealing seared skin underneath. The floor was covered in streaks of blood and flecks of it dotted his own face.

Beyond, the door was beginning to melt.

Then he stood up, as smoothly as violence uncurling and for the first time they could clearly see his hands.

"That's different," Argylin said, as an exhalation. Solo merely lowered his weapon and said nothing.

From Logan's hands jutted three claws each, long silvery spines, emerging from somewhere on the back of his hand., extending about six inches past his knuckles. The points of them glittered in the heavy light, twisting it as he walked toward them. Passing near a broken droid, its arm twitched toward him but in a motion so fast it seemed to scar the air Logan swiped at it and the piece fell apart, sliced cleanly in two.

Voices could be heard at the door now, and figures seen outside through it, almost as translucent afterimages. Droplets were falling from it, hissing when it hit the floor.

Solo noticed that he was limping as he came toward them, but Logan didn't seem fazed by it. Instead, he said, "Why isn't this bastard dead yet?" and pointed at Argylin with his claws.

"_No, they're right in front of us, what do you mean other signals behind . . ._"

"Forcefield," Solo said. After a beat: "And why do you have claws?"

"Long story. And is that the only thing stopping you?" He reached forward. "Here." Tiny puckers of energy appeared around the claws as the points plunged into the shield, meeting little resistance. Argylin, seeming to realize the danger, turned at the last second as Logan drove his claws right through the man's side.

He screamed and fell backwards, but Logan followed him step for step, leaping over the table to go down with him. Around him the shield was flickering, fragments of it striking the floor and phasing out.

"_No, no, there's no problem_ . . ." one hand was pressed to his side and greenish blood was seeping from in between his fingers. "_Everything is just . . ._"

"Shut up," Logan said quite calmly, his claws tracing a line very close to Argylin's face. "You're not talking to them now, you're talking to me."

"Then you," Argylin said through a damp cough, doing his best not to stare at the claws, "have my full attention."

"How close are they to getting through that door?" Logan asked over his shoulder.

Solo glanced over at the door, which was glowing brighter by the second. "Not much longer," he said, gripping his laser with both hands and holding it low. Quickly he came around the table and crouched down.

"Then you don't have a lot to time to tell us the other way out of here." Argylin said nothing and Logan let his claw make a tiny, too easy scratch on the side of his face. "Don't you?"

Argylin barked out a staccato clatter that might have been a laugh. The blood was oozing thicker from his side, but he never flinched. "_Give, give me a moment here, slow down, just_. Are you serious, we're at the edge of the port, we-"

"Too much talking," Solo said, using one hand to flip the table over.

"Right, save the guided tour for when we have more time," Logan agreed sharply. "There's more than one way out of anything."

"No, I'm telling you," shoving Logan's arm away from his face, he sat up with a coarse sigh, "that door is the only way in or out, otherwise you'd have to-"

"Not good enough!" Solo shouted. The world was growing loud, a grinding howl being exuded from the doorway. He positioned his laser over the edge of the table to steady it, his face set.

"You heard him," Logan said. "Don't make me ask again."

"Listen, I am telling you the truth," Argylin said as he slid away from Logan. "To leave here you'd have to go through the . . . what?" His eyes narrowed, then widened abruptly. "_Wait, what do you mean the-_"

That's when the wall before them exploded inwards.

Logan was the first to react, throwing his arms up and staggering back as dust and debris showered him. "What the hell?"

Argylin was still talking, even as the dirt coated him. "_That's impossible, they can't be right-_"

From out of a jagged hole lanced a beam of light that just seemed to barely touch Argylin in the back of the head. A second later there was another flash and Logan was thrown back against the table, the front of his shirt wet with blood and matter. Argylin's body was slumped forward unnaturally, a dark pool gradually spreading from the area where his head used to be.

Forms shifted in the darkness beyond, finding a solidity in the stratified haze.

"Who's there?" Solo said, looking unsure as to where to direct his laser.

Logan shook his head slowly, trying to get his bearings back.

Four pinpricks of light danced on the heads of filaments in the dimness, bobbing almost comically. With a jagged rustle bodies like bent cigars could be seen looming forward from the dark, segmented and crawling, low to the ground and skittering in their motions. A sound like the alphabet grinding together was heard, mixing together as mouthfuls of powdered concrete.

Shaking dust from his hair, Solo turned around, his eyes squinting and then widening as the shapes resolved. "Ah, no," he muttered. "No, no, _no_."

"What? What are they?" Logan said, blinking furiously to get debris out of his watering eyes. His claws were retracted now, although Solo thought he saw the points of them still jutting from the back of his hand, like metal seeds. "I can't-"

A harshburst of sound was heard again, overlapping discussions tuned to a new frequency. At the edge of the hole they stayed, although a hand with too many fingers attached to an arm with too many joints seemed to be protruding from the clouds of murk. That hand was holding nothing that looked friendly. The end of it appeared to be glowing.

"Nothing. Don't worry about it. It's nothing." Solo didn't take his eyes off the creatures, who were still too far back to be seen clearly. Arms ramrod straight, he held the laser gripped tightly and pointed toward the hole. "Just, listen, just get ready to-"

With a hiss, Logan pulled a sliver of something out of his eye.

Behind them, the door suddenly collapsed, crashing to the floor like a skeleton with all the bones removed. It was barely down when laser fire followed it in, strafing the room and searing the air over their heads. Voices crisscrossed into unintelligible blurs, gnarled and barely passing into speech. A starburst was flung from the vicinity of the hole and landed beyond them, briefly illuminating the room with a muffled _crump_. It hardly seemed to dilute the spray of lasers.

"Now what?" Logan yelled, turning as the table shuddered at his back. Solo looked about to return fire but as another volley sailed overhead apparently decided against it and stayed low.

"If you give me a second I'll think of . . ." Solo was searching frantically for something that might give them an advantage. His gaze settled on the gaping maw before them. "Wait, look!"

Logan leaned forward, nodded. "They're gone." He tried to peer closer. "Where did they go?"

"Retreated probably. Come on!" He scrambled to his feet, firing some shots over the table. Troopers were pouring into the room and fanning out, taking positions to lay down fire, some of them behind the wreckage of the room's droids. As soon as they realized that he and Logan were the only two people alive in the room, they were simply going to rush them and be done with it.

Logan, on one knee, hesitated. "Are you sure that's a good-"

"You want to take all those troopers out?" Solo asked and for a second he thought the man might leap over the table and do just that. But then he ducked as another laser lanced by just inches from his head and quickly moved to follow Solo, almost running on all fours. Solo unleashed a few more bursts of fire before the two of them dove into the hole, dodging to the side just as another array slammed into the wall they had been in front of mere seconds before.

Solo stood bent over, hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath. Logan watched him without comment. Past them the firing had stopped but there was the definite beat of approaching boots.

"We have to go," he said, staring down at the shadows being cast into the hole, shortening lengths scraping at the back wall.

"I know, I know," Solo said, straightening up and running a hand through his hair. "Okay. Let's get the hell out of here." The two of them began to run, moving carefully over the uneven ground.

"That didn't go too well, did it?" Logan asked, keeping pace easily with Solo.

"I'd rather not talk about it." Solo kept staring straight ahead.

Logan glanced at him and made a noise somewhere between a snort and a sigh. "It's colder here, where the hell are we?"

"I don't know," Solo replied, sounding distracted. The corridor seemed to go on for some time, and it was a while before Solo spoke again. "We're at the edge of the port, maybe we're in the outer skin." Voices could be heard from back where they had come, looping ghosts careening down a narrowing tunnel, scrambling for any purchase before they hit bottom. Even their own footsteps were deadened, flowers of noise unable to grow in the barren surroundings.

"Argylin didn't know about this tunnel," Logan noted. Still moving, he ran his hands along the roughened walls, rubbing the pebbles that came off between his fingers. "How was he going to get out then?"

Suddenly the dirty rock surfaces encasing them gave well to smooth metal floors and walls, the seam between them jagged but present. Logan skidded to a halt, one hand out to steady himself.

Solo had stopped as well, taking a second to change the power pack on his laser, tossing the old one onto the floor. "He had a personal teleporter on him, probably preset for a safe house. Chances are you broke it when you hit him, which is why he didn't bail earlier."

"Too bad for him, then."

"Yeah," was all Solo said. The troopers could no longer be heard behind them, the only noise was a sort of layered humming, distant and somehow nestling right in the bones. It smelled like scarred sterility. There was a certain brightness to the area but the light didn't seem to be emanating from anywhere in particular.

"This looks more promising," Logan said, sniffing and stalking past Solo. "Some kind of maintenance corridor?"

"I think so." Attaching his laser to his belt, he scanned the area, peering slightly further down. "Obviously they came in this way, which means there's probably a . . . aha!"

Beyond was a ladder set in the wall, spiraling solidly upwards. Logan had already reached it, one hand on a rung as if testing the reality of it.

"It must go topside," Solo said, coming forward quickly. "Good, we can get up there and lose them in the zones. Then we can . . . wait, where are you going?"

Logan had turned away suddenly, moving toward the opposite wall. "Hold on," he said softly, almost as if he were talking to himself.

"Listen, pal, we can't waste any time here-"

"Sh," Logan ordered, with a spear's certainty, and Solo fell silent, although it was hard to say if it was from surprise or obedience. "What is this?" he wondered, touching something on the wall.

"What is what?" Now curious, Solo came forward as well, crouching down next to him. Bending over to peer sideways at what Logan was examining, he whistled softly.

It was a hole chiseled in the wall, about three feet across and perhaps the same size taller. Which in itself was not impressive, they had just come through a hole much larger than that. What caught their attention was not the hole itself but what they could see through it.

Stars. And darkness. And all the rest that made the fabric of space.

"We are in the outer shell," Solo said, his fingers tracing the edge of it, which seemed smooth. "They must have been outside and punched right through."

"Then why aren't we dead right now?" Logan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"There's a seal in place. See that flicker right there?" his hand indicated a visual anomaly in the center of the hole that seemed to clench for an instant. Logan nodded wordlessly. "That must have cut in and slapped it on before Port Control noticed the drop in pressure." He twisted, staring back down the rock clawed corridor they had come down. "And then they started burrowing."

"In, though, or out?" Logan asked.

"I don't know," Solo admitted after a moment, frowning.

Further down the corridor was the patter of measured footsteps. A crimson glow was beginning to creep around the corner, perhaps a warning volley.

"Come on." Solo stood up quickly, made a leap two rungs up the ladder and immediately began climbing. "They're going to figure out where we went pretty fast."

Logan nodded, although he was still glancing at the hole as if deep in thought. His nose twitched slightly but he came over as Solo was halfway up the length of it, scurrying up nimbly. He took one last glance back before his view of the tunnel would be completely obstructed but all he saw was the red shadows, flickering and reaching.

"Are you-" From high above.

"Yeah," he said quickly, and went up.

******

They emerged on a glossy street, the surface polished to perfectly reflect the flawless dark above. Stars whirled with pitiless slowness underfoot and they stood in a seemingly endless field of them, deep enough that they might fall through and fall back down and never find the bottom.

Around them curled buildings without corners, architecture with a blocky gracefulness and angles that barely met in proper places. It leaned forward onto the avenue, penning them in while directing their path, a corridor punched down a black river and they were only pinpricks within it, effortlessly being carried along. There was no sound anywhere and no inhabitants present, although a breeze kept brushing past them, whispering and shying away at the last second.

Solo moved swiftly into the shadow of the nearest structure, squat and flanged. Nearly swallowed up, Logan could still make out his broad grin.

"Ha, about time we had some luck," he said as Logan joined him, padding carefully across the landscape.

"Oh? You mean people are going to stop shooting at me?" Logan pressed himself against the wall and let his voice come out as a hiss. "Because I'm starting to get tired of it."

"Hey, you signed on for this," Solo pointed out. He started to creep down the way, trying to keep into the opaque puddles caused by the cantilevered arms.

Logan's look should have flayed him where he stood. Even so his claws came out nearly an inch. "You didn't mention you were a wanted _criminal_. I might have taken that into consideration."

Solo glanced over at him and flashed him another grin. "Nah, I doubt it. You strike me as a defender of the downtrodden." He crept forward another few feet, throwing over his shoulder, "And the unfairly accused."

"Is that the case?" Logan's voice indicated a certain lack of conviction.

"Of course," Solo said blithely. "I wasn't even aware they were chasing after me until that moment in the bar. Before that it was only rumors but you know how rumors are, they're as plentiful as Crestian sores. I have no idea what the hell they want with me."

Logan carefully watched the back of Solo's head, but said nothing else.

"Besides," he continued, unaware of Logan's glare, "we're right where we need to go, we'll be on my ship and out of here in just a little while." His eyes met Logan's briefly. "If we're careful," he added, dangerously offhand.

"We're where he moved your ship?" Logan asked, his muscles seeming to tense and leap under his skin, ready to move in more action than this. "He said it was the-"

"-Comout sector." Above them pillars were bending like the rib cage of an inverted beast, growing closer and closer together as they made their way deeper inside. Very slowly the stars were being shut out and sealed away. "It's been abandoned for some time."

"Why?" His gaze kept darting around, unable to stay in one spot for very long, expecting an attack from any angle and desperate to be aware and able to meet it. The only sounds were their lowered voices, breath twisting around crystal and the smallest loose word might shatter the whole structure. There were only slivers of sky to be seen now, deeper was encasing them further.

"Nobody knows for sure. This is just an outpost for them." Starlight fell in narrowed bands, forming a near grid on his face. "Where they're from, is far away, and . . . I heard there was a war. And they left, without a word, packed up all their ships and left, to go back home. They say." He stopped for a second, shoulders up against the wall. Logan's eyes caught what little glimmer remained in the air, became a pair of flattened stars.

"And nobody's moved in since?"

"Everyone's afraid they'll come back. Most of the buildings are sealed up, word was that the Empire wanted to plunder them, break in and see what was inside." He stared down at his feet, at the too sharply defined image of himself chiseled onto the floor, as if into a dark mirror. "But they're stretched now, fighting against the Alliance and they don't want to piss off the Comouts as well, when they come back. So they stay away. Everyone stays away. Almost everyone."

Solo stared at his reflection for maybe another second, trying to see the sky by looking deep enough below. Then he began to move again, faster now and away from the wall. They were totally enclosed now, and the ceiling was sloping gently toward them as they went forward. Logan saw other streets branching off with even lower ceilings, twisting as if part of a hive, or warren. Glancing back, he thought he heard another set of noises, just out of time with their own steps but there was no one nearby.

Logan followed for half a minute before letting his own question ring out. "Who are the Inseptons?"

Solo halted, his back stiff as if his spine had been yanked. The darkened zone caused his black vest to blend in, causing his limbs to seem detached from each other, his head about to float away. "Another bunch of aliens, that's all. In case you haven't noticed, this damn port is full of them."

"That's not why Argylin mentioned it. He wasn't telling you because it was the latest gossip." The two of them had moved toward the center of the street, several feet apart, almost in direct line with each other. "He was telling you for a reason."

"They're not seen around here too often." Solo refused to turn around and in the gloom his body language was masked, so that all that remained was the sound of his voice, cushioned in the dimness and reduced to just the words themselves. "It's been years since one was spotted. They're not exactly social creatures."

"Why did he tell you?"

"To distract me, all right?" Solo's voice was a whip that Logan barely dodged and refused to flinch from. If he had turned it was impossible to tell anymore. Maybe they were moving in perfect time with each other, maintaining the same distance, their muffled shouts observed and swallowed by the massive flowing structures on either side of them, all actions witnessed by faces without eyes. "He was trying to buy time and he thought that might interest me long enough so that the troopers could get in." His breathing resounded as waves looking for a refractory surface. "Argylin always was a devious bastard. He got what he deserved." Solo started to walk again, boots clicking on the hardened floor.

"They're the ones who killed him, aren't they?" It was all echo, every word curving back as spikes. The heaviness of the ceiling was so close, dark on dark, opaque and pressing down.

Solo spun, his face gauze dipped in shadows. He didn't answer right away.

"Why did they do it?" Logan ventured, as a snap.

"We don't have time for this," Solo said in the tones of a man who knew exactly how much time remained and how much was leaving him. "Now come on."

He was walking away again when Logan caught up to him and grabbed him by one shoulder, spinning him around and pulling him close. "No," he snarled, his eyes becoming flint. "They _want_ something, Han. Don't you see that, or are you . . ." Logan broke off as he stared into Solo's impassive face. He took a step back, arms dropping to his side. "You do see it," he hissed, eyes narrowed. "And you just don't care."

"I'm telling you," the man replied evenly. "I have no idea what they-"

"Of course you do," a new voice said, coming from across the avenue. Both men turned, Logan's claws emerging immediately, with a clicked whisper. Solo brought his laser up but then lowered it slowly upon seeing the soldiers stepping out from one of the archways. Their white armor almost gleaming in the dusk, they arranged themselves in a semi-circle, their guns acting as spikes pointing inward.

"Don't believe a thing he says," the lead trooper said from his position at the peak of the parabola. "Mister Solo here is a notorious liar. He very much knows what we're after and what he needs to tell us. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he hired you as a shield to put someone between him and us. Has he told you what happened to his last partner yet? Is this one on family business, too?" The trooper laughed but coming from underneath the helmet it sounded muffled and mechanical, almost an approximation.

Logan glared at Solo but didn't speak. Solo was only staring at the speaking trooper, a muscle in his jaw working feverishly.

"You know what we need, why make this difficult? Stubbornness? A need to be contrary? All you smugglers are alike, thinking you're some kind of outlaws making a difference." The barrel of the laser was pointed unwaveringly at Solo's chest. "Your mistake is thinking that these are traits that can't be beaten out of someone. It's amazing what happens when you crack someone open. All kinds of garbage starts to leak out." He was walking forward now, step by step, the opaque visors on his helmet looking more like holes bored into his face, parts of him that had already been consumed. "You talk to the wrong people, Solo. They break too easily."

Solo swore but held his ground. Logan noticed that his laser was aimed toward the floor now, toward the trooper's feet. "The Empire's playing a dangerous game. How many stormtroopers have you landed on the port?" He was talking fast, his gaze trying to find every possible angle. "It's going to start looking like a move to annex it. The locals aren't going to be so thrilled over that. You start making people disappear, make too much noise and throwing your weight around, this place is going to go up like a reactor."

"A few pissed off aliens really aren't the Empire's biggest concern," the trooper sneered back, although Logan noticed that he had stopped his advance. "Besides, who's left to get angry? _Who?_" His voice seemed to expand and reverberate off the curved walls, travelling further down in a spiral. "A few drunks and space peddlers, passing through on their way to dig up some more airless rock? The bug-people? Even when they were here they never left their own sector. And we could slaughter the entire port and the vacuum eaters wouldn't even notice." Solo's hand had gone white around the grip. "We'll get the rest in due time, Solo, don't worry about it. You're just passing through, the same as everyone else. In the meantime, you're coming with us." His voice came across as isolated in the otherwise encapsulated quiet and the air seemed to shiver.

"I really don't think that's going to happen."

"Please. Give me a reason to shoot your legs out, because we're docked on the other side of the port and I'd like an excuse to drag your carcass all the way there. Face down, if possible."

Logan shifted his weight, waiting to move. He could cross the distance in seconds, less than that if necessary. They were slow motion to him, because they had to _think_. That wasn't a concern he had.

"You know the weird thing about Comouts?" Solo asked, letting one foot slide back. "They don't really like visitors, but the port wouldn't allow them to put any active defenses in. So they improvised, put up buildings you can't get into, made it too dark to really see."

"He talk this much normally?" the trooper asked Logan.

Logan shrugged. "You tune him out after a while. He's not paying me to listen."

"And yet, you can learn a lot," Solo said. "Especially if you listened right now, Logan, and _shielded your eyes_."

There was a pinged whine as Solo fired his laser directly at the floor. A second later the whole zone went white as the light flared out, saturating the area. There was an overlapped cry as the troopers all clutched their helmets, several dropping to their knees.

"Come on!" Solo shouted, grabbing Logan by the arm and dragging him toward an archway a bit further up the street. Several troopers were firing wildly now and Logan could almost feel the glow invading the air behind them, like someone had pulled down morning and brought it to ground, blankets of cold fire all settling on top of each other in some strange competition.

Logan blinked again, yanked his arm out of Solo's grasp. Even the brief glance had set stars twinkling in the back of his vision and it was only just beginning to clear. Solo was running at full-clip and Logan adjusted his pace to match the other man's stride.

"They're following already," he said, hearing the clank behind them, and the looming shouts, conical impressions bearing down the corridor.

"I figured that," Solo replied, breathing heavily and glancing back furtively, trying to judge the distance and finding it much too close for his liking. "But we couldn't exactly shoot them all right there."

"We didn't have to." He lifted a hand with the claws half-extended, but Solo only frowned and shook his head without elaborating. "And what the hell did you do?"

"Some guy in a bar one time told me that they had coated the walls and floor with reflective material, designed to disperse any laser fire, in case they got invaded and people started shooting. That sounds in character for them, so it seemed worth a shot. Their visors were probably polarized, so that flash must have been like someone pulling down a star."

"Somebody in a bar _told_ you? You didn't know for sure?"

Solo only shrugged, flashing a smile. "He sounded like he knew what he was talking about. Besides, I think the truest things I was ever told were said to me in bars."

Logan thought about this. "I'm not sure I can really argue with that."

A laser drilled through the air past them, followed a moment later by its careening whine. Both men glanced back to see the shapes of the troopers filling the corridor, dark cutouts against a dark background. Logan noticed that the walls around them were becoming less glossy and more like the dull metal of the rest of the port. "I think we're moving into another area," he said.

"Yeah, that's what I was afraid of. But we're going to have to lose these guys first." They exploded out of the tunnel into a widened space flushed with a sickly brightness, moving to either side of it.

"Wait. We can ambush them here," Logan said, sliding over to the corner, claws easily sliding out of his skin.

"Are you nuts?" Solo asked, taking a position on the opposite side. "There had to be at least ten of them, with more probably coming. Are you _trying_ to get killed?"

Logan only grinned, lips pulled back in a feral fashion.

"Oh no, we're not doing it this way." Footsteps tramped nearer, as Solo took stock of what was around them. The ceiling here was much taller, the dome overhead decorated with whirling patterns of spotted color, collapsing and reforming into errant shapes that seemed ready to leap off and hit the ground. The buildings were comprised of bent angles, ready to fold inwards and be packed away at any moment, flaring with glittering symbols. From a distance came the churning noises of what might have been revelry, awash in its own percussion, clattering armies fighting for the dominant rhythm. Lifeforms could be seen wandering, aimlessly or otherwise, decked in local dress or elaborate costumes. "No," he said to himself, "there's got to be another way to . . . ah." His eyes settled on a particular building as he watched a man clad in clothing that consisted of nothing but dilated lenses all featuring distorted views into other worlds. That man went inside, the door swallowing him with barely a ripple. His face brightened as he read the symbols over the entryway.

"Listen, Logan . . ." but the other man was staring intently at the space between the corners, listening to the troopers charging closer. His every muscle seemed poised, not tensed but ready, a bomb on the cusp of an explosion. "We don't have to do this, I've got a plan, I . . ." but he wasn't listening. Logan had inched forward until his face was nearly even with the edge. They would never see him, but how many could he get before the rest piled on him? And then what?

"Dammit," Solo swore, knowing he had only seconds. Time to force the issue. "Hey!" he yelled, leaping in the line of fire and setting off a few shots. The brief glimpse told him that the stormtroopers were uncomfortably close and he dodged backwards just in time to see beams shriek where he had been standing a second ago.

Logan was giving him a _what are you doing_ look but Solo had already taken off toward the building, hearing them rush into the sector even as sensed Logan coming up right behind him, catching up easily. "We can end this here!" Logan seemed to be yelling at him but he was already at the doorway. He only had time for a quick look, just enough to see the troopers steering toward them unerringly, and Logan's mystified face, asking questions he had no words to express. Even so, Solo had the same answer.

"Trust me," was what he might have said, and dove inside.

******

_arclightcrammingfallsdrippingsignsofsignsofsignseverywhichwayjumpeveryever-_

Solo was battered immediately, assaulted by jackhammers of sounds and lights, pressing into a mess of hot and cold, patches that toyed with each other before spiraling away giggling. The room was bent with prisms, the glows forming extant colors and shades that fluttered, tones that sang of hues and a density that you could fall completely into and not find the bottom of. Solo staggered two steps upon entering, thrown from side to side by gyrating bodies, the air too alive with smells that ran like bonfires along his nerves, setting off explosions in his brain that were dilated memories, of voices and distance and lines on a string and a string stretched between two places with neither end in sight.

He tried to bring his vision in line with what his senses were telling him, and failed. The room tilted vertically and impossibly, shapes crashing together and dancing up the walls, horns blaring like unpeeling flowers and spotlights piercing down as corkscrews, illuminating distorted faces, eyes rolled back in a kind of elusive bliss. He fought his way forward, forcing himself to accept the dimensions of the room, no matter how much it was rotating or settling, the constant siren of words falling down as rain on his ears, threatening to tear him into other places. The room was too large, expanding further than the edges of the outer system. It was too small, limbs stacked on limbs stacked on limbs, in his face, wrapped around his body, sliding to rhythms that he could not fall into. All he knew was forward. Toward the back and forward.

_Oneintheyinhighdownstraightifyoucomingthenitsbestdonenowcareeningson_

Solo was out of breath, wanting to fall and not letting it happen. Closing his eyes didn't make it any better, a man standing near him could have been shouting at the top of his lungs but it was all drowned out cacophony, blending into the swirling array. Hours had gone by in seconds. Another form, bristling and multi-shaded, swiped against him and he spun around, resisting the urge to grab it and fling it across the room just to erase its momentum, let its opposite reaction send him somewhere else.

As it was, the room whirled crazily, pulled tight at all ends and when his sight cleared he had a good view of the front door.

That's when he saw Logan.

The man had run in at full tilt, just as the lights started to strobe in a sideways fashion. Solo was trying to gesture for Logan to get over to his side of the room, even as transparent fish settled diagonally across his vision, ringing as bells gone backwards. He wanted to shout but every word was coming out as bubbles of gravel, strewn about like roads of gossamer laced in invisible paths before him. There were alarms going off in his skin like supernovas, telling him to _go and go and go and go_. But he didn't move. He couldn't, he had someone to get. And he was right across this obliquely slanted room.

And then and yet. _Logan? What are you-_

In hazy segments of time, he watched Logan come in, and he watched Logan go down.

It happened in a strange sort of slow-motion, where Logan and the rest of the room randomly swapped speeds, one shifting in interlaced blurs while the other section staggered staccato. In the midst of it, his expression was all too clear, twisting from surprise into pain and then past it into a near electric anguish, his hands going to his ears and his eyes and his face and not being able to settle anywhere. The room danced about him without noticing, perhaps thinking it was all part of the display. His mouth was opened into a yawning hole and the scream being torn from it was just another series of vibrations decorating the interior, fading in with barely a rattle.

Logan dropped to his knees, shaking violently from side to side like something heavy had landed on him and none of his efforts could make it dislodge. His hands were covering his ears and he was bent over onto the floor nearly double, his arms and legs trembling. Solo tried to make his way over to him but the lights were fractured and destroying all angles, forcing him into a crooked and circular path. Taking deep breaths, Solo closed his eyes and did his best to regain equilibrium, willing the room back into something resembling logic.

_Ohlookandlookandseecrawlingcatapultsoversilentstarsfingersrightthrough_

When he opened them again, the room had more new visitors.

The iris of the door dilated again and the troopers tumbled in, the uniformity of their armor making it seem like the same person was stepping in on stuttering repetition, one after the other after the other. Solo blinked hard and the blurriness began to fall back into a crisper focus, the churning ocean finding resolve. He needed to reach Logan, who was still undergoing the strange violent seizure on the floor, reach him and grab him and get him the hell out of here. To that end he began to ram his way through the crowd, shoving bodies aside, even as smiling gaped faces ringed him as floating fevers, and offered him drugs or toys or perhaps the promise of another further time.

As it turned out, the troopers were closer to Logan.

One spotted him and pointed, the motion of his arm forming ghostly afterimages in the clatter. Moving in lockstep the others began to clear the immediate area, practically throwing others aside. Solo had to duck and dodge to avoid being crushed by a dense Hurtellen, its fluffy bulbous shape deceptive. Someone nearest to him wasn't so lucky and wound up being squished against the wall, hands waving feebly.

_Now's my chance_, he thought, with no obstacles between he and Logan. Moving warily at the edge, doing his best to tune out the clamor even as it made his teeth vibrate, he got ready to run in. All he had to do was grab him before the troopers did.

Except the troopers had no such intention of that. Which Solo realized when they all pointed their rifles at Logan. The lead trooper, set back a step from the rest, raised one arm.

"No!" he shouted, but his cry was lost in the morass of noise.

Logan was beginning to stir, getting on his hands and knees and blinking rapidly. His pupils seemed quite small and there were tremors running up and down his muscles.

Solo got out his own laser, but he couldn't shoot fast enough, _he couldn't-_

The signal went down and the air screamed.

Logan was turning as the first shot slammed into him and the impact of it nearly threw him onto his back, a wide gash ripping up his side, angry and red. The second and third caught him in the chest, the flash of the lasers dulled by the contrasting fragments of light that were bursting inside the room. The next one merely skinned his leg, but he was halfway to standing up and the wound brought him back down.

The notion of what was happening rippled through the crowd slowly, but picked up speed as it did and seconds later shouts and yells began to course through the room as people began to fight to be somewhere other than where they were standing. Solo was hit from behind as a man covered in spiked feathers ran forward, brandishing what appeared to be an oscillating halberd.

With just the barest glance one of the troopers casually shot him in the chest. He stumbled back, mouth agape and weapon spinning to the floor. Using the falling body as a cover, Solo took a quick shot, tagging the soldier right at the neck, forcing him to stagger without falling. Noting the new attack, the others shifted their aim toward the threat.

The moment's pause gave Logan a chance to finally react. Without getting up from his lowered position he launched himself at the nearest trooper, the garishly cycling lights stretching his motion into a liquid action, pouring himself from one zone to the next, his claws seemingly the only solid piece of him.

Two beams whizzed past him, coming inches too close but missing. One struck a bystander and sent them reeling away, smoke hissing from the slash in their torso. The floor was becoming a grid of chaos now, screams beginning to overwhelm the ambient fuzz, everyone deciding that separate directions were the fastest way out. Solo was nearly knocked down, but was doing his best to keep Logan in sight.

A path cleared before him just in time to see Logan jam both sets of claws into the closest trooper's chest and then without breaking stride picking up the man and flinging him into the others. He leapt forward before the body even hit the ground, falling on the other troopers even as they tried to back away. A few shots hit him but barely broke his stride, momentum sending him crashing forward and lifting him up into an arc. With graceful brutality his claws sliced down, cutting right through the armor, he was hardly hesitating but merely letting himself be carried from one motion to the next, as if he had all the time in the world. Stab, and spun. Stab, and turn. He was a whirling silhouette, every movement improvised into cascades of hammered violence. Spurts of blood were oddly benign in the artificial lighting, disappearing against the torn dark of his jacket. Solo caught the briefest glimpse of his face and it was feral and intent, mouth barely open and a snarl emerging that rattled right through his bones.

"_Logan_-" he called out but the man turned, sweeping the room with a wild gaze and Solo knew that nothing he said would be heard.

Scattering, the troopers began to fire without aiming, attempting to trip him up and force him into an intersected strike. Lasers whined, slamming into those standing nearby and suddenly there were bodies falling like cut puppets, expressions locked into an elastic kind of surprise, sunbursts of blood beginning to decorate both floor and walls.

Feeling the room receding from him, Solo watched with dazed detachment as Logan ran down another trooper, taking a hit to the soldier even as he drove his claws right through the helmet, the points shuddering out the back. He slid them out smoothly, letting the body lower almost gently, his eyes already searching and locked onto the next target. He wasn't smiling. Solo told himself that over and over. _He was not smiling_. Even as he realized he was backing away deeper into the room, moving like a phantom through the stalled crowd. Around Logan was an ever-widening circle of corpses, with lasers lancing past and through him, pegging those still struggling to get out of the way and sending them to the floor, sometimes still twitching, sometimes quite still. Solo was seeing it all through a backwards lens, the widescreen view of a tiny Logan springing on a tightly clustered pack of troopers, bringing them down with a methodical necessity, distant and bloodless and terrifying. That wasn't a claw jammed into a leg to hold someone in place, and it wasn't another thrust through the back to cause the flailing figure to finally cease struggling. Another laser caught him on the side of the neck, opening him up wide and what Solo saw there was . . . was what? What was that?

A hardness bumped up against his back and Solo realized he had reached the rear of the building. Far away, he saw Logan suddenly spin in his direction, eyes piercing and marked and his lips form a word that might have been "You" or another phrase entirely.

Then a shadow passed nearby and Logan spun to meet it yet again, even as the panicked crowd closed up before Solo. The shadows of his claws were scarred on the ceiling, and it was the last thing that Solo saw before his fumbling hands somehow miraculously found an exit that opened, letting him topple outside into the stale port air.

Stripped of the layered cacophony, it became strangely silent here, except for a slight ringing in Solo's ears. Before him the remaining patrons were jammed into the doorway, faces flattened as if by a sheet of glass, all struggling to get to the same place, none willing to give any ground to let others get there, even if it meant dooming themselves.

_Help us_, the sets of eyes, glassy and opaque, hazy and membranous, all said to him. _Help us_. One might have slid out, his body too flexible, as if broken, landing on the ground and gasping. Nobody else emerged.

"I'm sorry," Solo might have stammered, trying to ignore his own heavy breathing. "I'm just . . ."

The mass shuddered again, and the edges of the world became rimmed in red.

"I'm-" but he didn't say anything more than that before running away, refusing to even think about looking back. It was quiet and he still heard them, klaxons going off in the mind.

Panting, he ducked into a warehouse he hoped was abandoned, nearly throwing his shoulder out in forcing the door open, stumbling inside without any heed to what he might run into. He finally found a corner more through luck than anything else and slid down, hearing nothing but his own echoed breathing, pulling his knees to his chest and telling a person that wasn't him that everything was fine and just to be calm. But that person wasn't listening, and didn't seem about to start.

******

How long he sat like that he didn't quite know. The interior of the warehouse was dark, with only a pattern of meager light spilling in from a small window located on the door. The ceiling was buried somewhere in the gloom overhead, and the shadows held hints of giant machines rendered inert, waiting to be either reactivated or discarded. The whole area was soaked in a trembling silence, with vague streams of sound leaking in from outside, the hum of the port, muted shouts and cries, distant clangings and grindings and groanings, the engines of wheeling stars beyond in their achingly slow dances.

All that noise, and one other. The soft scrape of a scuff, just outside the door.

Solo picked his head up suddenly, blinking himself back into alertness. His nerves were still singing from what he had just witnessed, the casual explosion of violence still going off like flash mines in his brain, flickering images combining into a fierce unfurling. Taking a deep breath., he eased himself into a crouch, laying his laser on one leg to steady it.

A shadow crossed the square of light and stopped, splitting it into crescents.

Solo held his breath, finger on the trigger.

The shadow moved away, although Solo refused to allow himself to relax. If they were searching, they were going to come in anyway, but with the doorway so narrow he'd be able to pick off quite a few and form a bottleneck. That would give him time to-

Right next to him, someone struck a match in the dark.

With a gasp he refused to believe came from him, Solo whirled, arms locked straight and laser pointing right at the source of the sound.

Vision spinning, he saw a man's features lit by a glow coming from the hollow of his own cupped hand, all harsh contrasts and swept back hair. He was about to fire when the imagine finally registered.

"You know, bub," Logan said slowly, tossing the spent match away and taking a long drag on the cigarette, "it's probably a good idea to work on that peripheral vision."

Solo lowered the pistol carefully. "I take it there's another door into here."

"Maybe," Logan said offhandedly, perfectly balanced on the balls of his feet. His claws had been retracted, and the cigarette forced throwback light onto his face, crafting oblong shadows that may or may not have shrouded the blood streaking his skin. He clutched the cigarette tightly, staring out into the dark without saying a word.

"How did you find me?" he ventured, studying Logan cautiously.

"You stink," was all he said and then snorted, as if enjoying a private joke.

"We should lay low here for a bit," Solo said eventually, shifting into a more comfortable position. "In all the confusion they'll eventually move the search elsewhere . . ." he rubbed the back of his head. "I don't know why the hell the port constables aren't getting involved, unless they've all been bribed. They're corrupt as hell but there's no love lost between them and the Empire, so I don't-"

"What the hell was all that, Solo?" Logan asked suddenly, sharply.

Cut off, it took Solo a second to catch up. "What was what?" His heart was not beating faster. The man was not capable of doing that to him. "That room, it was, we were in the entertainment district and it must have been a club that specializes in sensory overload. Some people get off on that kind of-"

"That's not what I mean. That mess, that goddamn _mess_," he spat out the words as mangled things. He turned to stare at Solo and the burning end of the cigarette was reflected in his eyes, distant fires racing toward him. "What the hell were you thinking, leading those bastards into that place?" Underneath his words there was a simmering and Solo wondered if he had lowered the weapon too early.

Even so, he wouldn't back away. "I thought we'd lose them in the crowd, and we could just slip out the back. I didn't realize that-"

"-they'd open fire on the crowd?" Icy, the string of a razor drawn along glass, a mark made without cutting. "You didn't think they'd do that? You knew they were trigger-happy and you went and put a bunch of targets in their way. What the hell did you think was going to happen? They'd give up and walk away?" The emptiness was compressing his voice, funneling it directly toward Solo. "There are people _dead_ in there, goddammit. A lot of people."

"I was trying to buy us _time_."

"You were trying to buy _yourself_ time," Logan shot back, one finger stabbing up and stopping just short of Solo's chest. Warily he watched the top of that hand, waiting for the spike to emerge. Would there be any warning? "It's not me they're looking for, is it? It's you and you don't give a damn about who gets in the way as long as _you_ get away." His eyes narrowed. "I was right before, you've known from the start what this is all about, you hired me to put someone else between you and them."

Solo said nothing, just stared down at the floor.

"Is that the truth?" Logan asked, his voice getting louder. He was standing now, his stocky stature casting deeper shadows over Solo. "What is going on, Han? Why are they chasing you?" Smoothly he knelt down, pressing his face close to Solo's. When he spoke again his voice was very, very quiet. "What did you see?"

Solo never looked at him, his expression locked away. "I told you already, _I don't know-_"

"You son of a bitch!" Logan roared, picking him up from under his shoulders and slamming him against the wall. The cigarette fell to the floor and went out, only leaving behind a few sad traces of smoke. Solo blinked, more dazed than surprised, although his eyes went wide when he saw Logan's contorted face. "Don't you _dare_ give me that. You're lying, I know you're lying. I can _smell_ it on you. So I'm going to ask you again and if you give me some kind of bull answer, I will hamstring you and leave you out there for them to find. Am I clear?" The man didn't answer immediately and Logan shook him violently. "I asked you a question, Solo."

"Walk away," came the answer, in a voice gone dry. "Just get the hell away."

"No," Logan said simply. "Not because you hired me, or because I've been shot repeatedly, but because whatever the hell you started, it needs to be seen through. And you don't have the balls for it."

This caused Solo's eyes to flare up. "Don't you lecture me about having balls-"

"Then prove it to me," Logan snarled at him. "Because so far all you've been doing is running and hiding."

"You think it's that simple?" Solo shouted back at him, the expanse of the cavernous surroundings muffling his voice somehow. "I am doing my damndest not to get killed, not to let either of us get killed, while trying to figure out what is going on."

"Is that what you call it?" Logan sneered.

"I call it survival." Solo's voice was steel. "It's what I do, it's all I know how to do, get from one day to the next. And you want to talk about people not knowing things, pal . . ." his hand shot out to brush aside the collar of Logan's jacket, revealing the smooth skin of his neck. Logan remained perfectly still, his pupils seemingly quivering. "You were shot here, I saw it. Tore you right open. And now it's like you were never touched." His brief chuckle was a blunted hammer. "I bet if we checked where else you got pegged, what would we see?"

"I recover fast."

"I don't _have_ that luxury," Solo suddenly barked, tugging down so that Logan's grip on him was released. He shoved the man back, sending him staggering a few inches. "I get shot and I _die_. I make a mistake anywhere and I'm done, whether it's here or out there, you don't get second chances. I don't have metal claws and whatever the hell it is that you can do, I have a gun and my wits and a ship that I can't get to." Leaning on the wall, he pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. "You think this is how I wanted this to go? But I'm just trying to stay a step ahead here-"

"And people are _dying!_" Logan took a step forward.

"You think I don't know that?" Solo responded, moving closer so that the two men were inches apart. "And you think it doesn't bother me? Because it does, but you know what, that's what happens and I can't spend my time crying over it. I'm just trying to exist here, you know? The same as anyone else." Glancing down, he checked his gun at his belt. "Now, we've probably spent enough time here that we can-"

"No." Somehow Logan bit the word off so that it was less than a syllable.

Solo looked at him, raised an eyebrow.

"Who are the Inseptons?" His stance had gone immobile.

"I told you, another bunch of aliens. If you're that curious I can show you the census report another time, right now we've got to . . . _ah!_" His sentence was cut off as Logan back him toward the wall, one hand around his throat and the other pointed directly at his face. Solo could see the tips of sharpness beginning to break through the skin.

"I'm not going to ask again," Logan said too calmly. "But you hired me as your partner and I have been shot for you and you are _not_ keeping me in the dark anymore. Because enough people have died. It's time for some answers, Han. _Now_. What's so special about them?"

Solo tried not to stare at Logan's hand. Swallowing thickly, he licked dry lips. "All right, fine. It's not . . . it's not the _them_ that's special, it's the . . . number of them."

"Argylin said there was more than one spotted."

"Yeah, that's the thing they . . ." grimacing, he tapped Logan's hand and the other man, perhaps sensing a shift, obliged by releasing him. "They're real solitary, you don't see more than one anywhere, seeing even a pair together never happens." Massaging his neck, he coughed, eyeing Logan, maybe hoping that the questions were done.

"Why is that?"

Solo sighed, paced away. "Their planet was destroyed a long, long time ago, far away from here. So everyone who got off-world scattered and . . . they just never got back together. Became nomads, always travelling."

"Not just travelling," Logan answered. "They're searching."

Solo looked at him sharply. "How do you-"

"I know the type." He cocked his head to the side, as if studying. "But am I right?"

"Yeah, yeah," Solo said and something seemed to collapse inside of him. He squeezed the lower part of his face, deep in thought. "There was a war and before the planet got destroyed they . . . they gathered a lot of their knowledge and genetic codes into these . . . capsules. Put it all in there and launched it away. Everything they knew, history and science and the rest, it was all in there." He walked around swinging his arms loosely, exhaling shallow breaths. All his motion barely made a dent in the dark. "But with the war going on, they lost track of them. They drifted away and by the time things settled down that anyone decided to start looking for them, nobody could figure out where they'd gone. So they spread out to search, been doing it ever since." His eyes were staring at a fixed spot. "All of them, alone."

"And they're here now. That's not a coincidence, Han. We both know that." Logan's body was masked, but his voice came through strong. "You found it, didn't you? What they lost."

"It was an accident," he said, sounding lost. "The fleet appeared out of nowhere and we . . . I panicked. Jumped without even checking, just to get away. And . . ." his jaw tightened even as his body went stiff. "I said I didn't mean to. I _told _them. It was supposed to be only a rumor, like Jedi."

"Just tell them where it is, then." Logan came forward but there was a different look in his eyes. "If it belongs to them, you can end this just by telling them."

"It's more complicated than that," Solo said. He didn't elaborate and it wasn't clear exactly what he was referring to. "I don't even know how they found out except . . . damn." He frowned, running a hand through his hair. "That's why I never let myself get drunk. Sorry, pal." Letting his arm drop, he fell silent.

"So now what, then? What are we going to do?"

"We?" Solo asked, turning to face Logan. The barest edge of a smile cracked his face. "When did this become a _we_?"

Logan stuffed his hands into his pockets, strode over to Solo. "Since I became a sucker for lost causes." He peered at Solo, his eyes gathering up all available light and gleaming. "Do you have a plan to end this? You know what needs to be done?"

Solo only nodded.

Logan chewed at his lip, stared off into the distance before letting his gaze settle back. "Then I'm in until it's over." Searching Solo's expression, he added, "That's what you hired me for, isn't it? So this can finish?"

"Is that what you do?" Solo asked. "Finish things?"

Logan grin was sparking wires. "I'm the best there is at it."

Solo laughed quietly, looked about to slap Logan on the shoulder before catching himself. Pivoting, he went toward the door. "Why are you here? Don't take this the wrong way, but you're not from around here. You're too clueless about everything that's going on."

Logan pressed his lips together and scratched at his face. "We got lost," he finally said, turning away also, his boots scraping against the floor. "I got separated from my friends and I've been trying to find them."

"Your friends are like you?" He tapped his hand to indicate.

"Yeah. No. Not really. We came out here to help someone but . . . we don't belong out here, this isn't the place for us." Under his breath he muttered, "Dammit, Chuck, you had to let your girlfriend drag us into this." In a more normal tone of voice, he said, "Normally we're easy to pick out in a crowd but here . . . I keep thinking I see them, but after seeing the third fuzzy blue person and having it turn out _not_ to be the elf . . . they're not on the port. I don't know where they are, but it's not here."

"You'll find them," Solo said. "Big and empty as it is out here, you fall into the habit of running into the same ten people over and over again. I really can't explain it myself."

"I thought I'd like it out here," Logan said, stepping further into the darkness. His voice expanded, trying to scrape up against every wall, sounding large and hollow and sad, detached from his body. "I'm not a guy that likes to be around people all the time and when I first got separated I thought, it'll be a change of pace for once. Some peace and quiet before we find each other." He paused and when his voice came again it was as a mushrooming echo, a noise begging to be heard. "I hate it here. Back home, even when you're alone you're still _part_ of things, you have this sense that everything is connected, in the sounds and the smells and the rest." He seemed to be shaking his head, or maybe it was just another motion entirely. "It's crowded but it's all thrown together, people huddled to ignore how empty and alone it is. Everything is so crammed and close, it's smothering. And then you go out and it's just as bad. I can't stand it. It's not solitude, it's cold and too quiet and sterile. Nothing smells right. You're too small in the face of it, I used to stare at the stars and wonder what they were all about, if I'd ever reach them. But all the way up here they're just as far away, always out of reach. You can keep travelling and you'll never get to where you want to go, or need to be."

"You're just not used to it." Solo didn't know what else to say. "A lot of grounders feel the same way."

"Maybe," Logan said. "But I wonder . . ." he trailed off, swiveling suddenly to face the door.

Seeing the motion, Solo stepped back, pressing himself against the wall next to the door, trying to keep out of sight. "_What_?" he mouthed to Logan.

Bending down, Logan crept toward the door, coming in under the window and raising himself until his eyes were barely peeking over the edge. Intent, he studied the area for a few seconds before ducking down and sliding near Solo.

"They're out there," he whispered.

"Who? The stormtroopers?" But Logan only shook his head and that's when Solo heard it.

The skittering. Soft, like the wind rustling over discarded bones.

"Dammit," Solo swore, reaching for his gun.

"No." Logan put his hand over Solo's, signaling for him to keep the weapon down. "That's not going to work."

"You've got another idea?"

"Yeah, I do." He removed his hand, braced it against the door. "But I've got to ask you first . . . this thing you found, it belongs to them, right?" Solo nodded and Logan continued, "And the reason you can't show them where it is, it's a good reason? You're not just being stubborn or trying to sell it to the highest bidder?"

"It was a good enough reason for me _not_ to do those things," Solo replied. "Listen, you're going to have to trust me on this."

"I need to. That's why I'm asking. Can I?"

Solo didn't flinch. "You tell me."

Logan stared at him for another few seconds, then grunted and shifted back, fingers tapping against the door. "All right."

"You're going to trust me." Solo wasn't surprised, but he was wary.

"Yeah," Logan said, putting his ear to the door, eyes half-closed. His lips were barely moving as he spoke. "Because this has you frightened out of your mind and that kind of fear makes people honest."

"Thanks." Said in a dry rasp. He shifted, tucking one leg under him so that he was resting on one knee. "What's the plan, then?"

"They're nosing around the sides of the building. I'll draw them out and away, that'll give you a chance to run toward your ship. Wait there, and I'll join you."

"You'll join me? You don't even know where it is."

"I'll find you." There was utter certainty in his voice. "I'm good at that."

"I'll take your word for it." Solo wasn't looking directly at him. "You're sure about this."

"You got a better idea?"

"No," Solo said after a second's thought. "No, I don't."

"That settles it." He stood up and there was a wildness in his grin, a notion that Solo himself recognized but was incapable of feeling it down here, in this place of walls and ceilings and gravity and direction. "Ready when you are."

******

The port was still in its night cycle when Logan emerged. Sidling out carefully, he let the door shut behind him, not even bothering to quiet its final _clang_. The sound echoed through the zone, a bullet fired into the center of a meadow.

Even draping himself in the shadows, it didn't take them long to find him.

The coarse rattling was the first sign, too many legs pattering about on the metal floor. Slowly the ends of two eyestalks poked around a corner, bobbing almost comically. Less comical was the weapon that followed, its end smoldering dangerously. Another set came in from the other side, with just the tips of their long bodies showing. It reminded him of an old enemy, a memory that gave him an odd squeezing pain in his bones. He did his best not to think about it.

"He's not here," he called out to them, not really sure if they even understood English. Though everyone seemed to around here, for some reason.

Then he heard the unpleasant chittering and realized that the two were speaking to each other. Keeping his hands at his sides, he started to walk forward.

A voice from one of them stopped him. "_Where_ . . ." It was said with great effort, like it had learned the language the long way around, by converting it into mathematics and bringing it back again.

"I don't know," he said, aware that both guns were trained on him. "If you do find him, I'd like to know, because the bastard is cheating me out of a day's pay." He punched his open palm. "If you leave anything of him, I'd like a crack at what's left."

The noises again, radio static crossed with broken gears. It was sending spasms down his spine to even listen to it.

"_You know_ . . ." one of them, maybe the same one, finally said. "_You're hiding him, he is near . . ._"

"I told you already, I have no idea." The eyes, spheres somehow resisting all attempts to capture light, were looking him up and down. "What? The word of a man like me isn't good enough?"

On either side of him came the whine of weapons charging.

"I guess that answers that question," he said with a laugh. "But before you shoot me . . . you'll have to catch me first."

Then, darting forward, he slapped the weapon out of the nearest alien's hand. It fell to the ground, spinning as it did, while the Insepton pulled away. It screeched a series of notes from an atonal symphony, a racket that almost drowned out the other one firing.

Logan threw himself backwards, twisting as he did so that he landed on his feet and facing the other direction. There was a scorch mark on the wall in the shape of a flattened bird and the rising howl of the weapon priming again.

"This way," he shouted, breaking off into a run between the two buildings, while another blast charred a groove into the floor right behind him. His grim laugh seemed the only motion in the still air.

There was a brief burst of chatter again, while the one alien scooped its laser up. Both of them eased around the corner, hugging the walls and moving sinuously in swift pursuit.

******

The corridor had gone quiet when Solo crept out of the warehouse. He glanced at the two scars from the weapon's discharge, and unclipped his own laser from the belt.

He looked to his right, in the direction back toward the Comout sector and where his ship was docked. Off to his left and in the distance, he heard muffled explosions, two at a time but staggered.

"Just go to the ship," he told himself. "That was the plan, he can handle himself. He doesn't need you to be a hero, Solo. You just need to stay alive." Nothing in his voice sounded convincing. "Go to the ship and keep yourself in one piece."

It was the hollow tapping that made his decision for him.

Solo pressed himself tight against the wall and watched as the floor began to bulge and pulsate, finally cracking open once it had formed a near-dome. By that time Solo had ducked around the corner, watched cautiously. Another Insepton pulled its long body out of the hole, wriggling as it did so. Once topside, it hummed what sounded like a fractured song and made its way in the same direction as everyone else had gone.

"A third," Solo breathed. "Just go to the ship. Remember the plan. He doesn't need you to . . ."

But he couldn't take his eyes off the direction where everyone else had gone. Finally he stood up and jogged to where the hole was. He glanced down into its darkness and then further down the way. His lips were pressed into a tight line.

"Oh, the hell with it," he finally said, and ran off to follow where Logan and the others had gone.

******

In this sector the warehouses were placed almost haphazardly, every attempt at a grid broken by diagonal edifices, squares replaced by triangles, triangles preempted by rhombuses, giving him constant corners to dodge around but not a sense of where he was going or how close he was to losing them. As it was they seemed to be just as adept at tracking as he was, often appearing down corridors that he was fully intending to duck down and giving him barely a second to dive away before a laser blast flooded the area. Every move he made was countered but every gesture they triggered was equally matched, so that the lot of them were engaged in a strange game amongst the buildings, roaming about without gaining any ground.

But in retrospect he should have expected this. If what Solo said was true, then they'd been trained their entire lives to search for a small object in the midst of a vast Universe. Finding a man like him inside a small portion of the port was probably no challenge at all.

He glanced up, trying to find something else up there in the blackness, something other than dispassionate stars. There was nothing, of course. He'd been up here and out there and you could never convince him that was life. Life was the exhaled sigh of undisturbed nature, or the close confines of a bustling city, with all its scents and jagged rhythms. Out here, the pulse was too quiet, there was no connection he could make. He was used to being alone, but this was different because there were always reminders and potentials, the chance another face might have a sign in it that they understood. It was rare but the few times made it worth the search. He'd have no such luck here, all he had was severed signals and scrambled communications.

A quickening in the air interrupted his thoughts, forcing him to duck as a laser seared the air over his head. Another gashed against the ground and he set off running again. The only possible benefit to being out here, he considered wryly, was that he was not considered strange, that he might not be as much of an outsider.

Whirling around a corner, he nearly came face to face with an Insepton. Fortunately it was in the midst of taking apart a security droid, having knocked it over and literally sitting on top of it, its multi-jointed legs working efficiently to dissemble the droid.

It spotted him almost immediately, however, and leapt at him from its sitting position, managing a fair distance in the process. _In theory I might not be an outsider_, Logan thought, slashing with his claws to send it reeling back. The droid levered itself up and prepared to fire, while the Insepton delivered a casual kick with its back leg that crumpled its chest unit, all without turning around.

However, it did provide a distraction and Logan took the opportunity to make himself scarce. _But even here they're still trying to kill me._

He hoped Solo was at the ship by now because he wasn't sure how he was going to be able to lose these things. He didn't want to outright kill them, because they were only hunting for what was rightfully theirs to begin with, but he suspected that there was more going on here than it seemed. If they didn't break off the chase soon, he'd have to use more drastic measures. Perhaps he'd give them a warning first.

Hearing the chittering again, he turned to see two of them coming down the hallway toward him, weapon hands already waving loosely to aim at him. With a broad grin, Logan took off again, pulling his stride into more of a sprint, taking a corner with a squeak of boots on metal and then pulling left rapidly, hearing lasers whizzing by in the spaces he had been.

The last turn brought him into a wider area. Taking a second to take stock, he noticed that the zone ahead was emptier, almost a courtyard of sorts. And beyond that was more tightly clustered buildings, very utilitarian in design. Even better, most of them seemed connected by a intricate latticework, walkways and stairs stretching from floor to ground and from building to building. _That_ he could certainly lose them in.

Another blast screamed, too near this time, and Logan took off again.

******

They were moving fast, Solo was only able to follow them by tracking the echoes they made and the traces they left behind. Fortunately he was able to move in a straighter line as they didn't know he was following behind, although sometimes he got brief glimpses of the Inseptons as they glided between buildings. Or maybe he kept seeing the same one over and over again, he was only able to get glimpses of them anyway, viewed through the slits the buildings made, a lighter grey against the dark. He was impressed the chase had gone on for as long as it had, or that Logan hadn't killed them yet.

But they were maneuvering around the corridors easily, as much as the area formed a kind of maze, he never saw them double back. They must have studied the area before coming in and after a while he began to get the sinking feeling that they weren't moving as quickly as they could. Which suggested a possibility he didn't want to consider.

_Dammit, Logan, be careful. Or they're going to change you from bait to prey_.

Finally, he reached an open area, its expanse a direct contrast to the claustrophobic canyons that were behind him. Which was weird in itself for a design. Solo racked his memory for the layout of the port, trying to remember who occupied what sectors, doing his best to orient himself on the fly. It wasn't like this for aesthetic reasons, the port had no concept of that. It reminded him almost of a unloading area, although that made little sense.

Then he saw Logan dash out across the open zone, toward the grey structures that loomed on the other side of the expanse. No, it didn't remind him of a loading area at all, now that he thought about it.

Behind Logan, two Inseptons slid out, red-gold bodies seeming to ripple along the floor. They were firing constantly but kept hitting just short of him. Almost like they weren't even trying to aim anymore. Perhaps he was tiring them out. No, that couldn't be it.

But where the hell was he running to? Solo stared at the buildings, trying to look for some kind of insignia that might give him a clue. It was hard to focus on them properly for some reason, like some kind of haze was obscuring all the fine details. A haze or a . . . shimmer?

_Oh no._ Solo swore under his breath, recognizing finally what the area was.

It wasn't for loading or unloading at all.

It was a buffer.

A warning dying in his throat, Solo broke into a dead run.

******

Almost there now. Logan found himself staring at the floor as he ran, he wasn't winded but with the aliens behind he had to keep concentrating to make sure they weren't firing too close to him. There was a strange humming in the area but otherwise the zone was incredibly quiet, with no signs of life. Just the group of them, engaged in some mad chase. Glancing back, he saw the two Inseptons spreading out, apparently trying to flank him, guns waving to try to get a fix on him.

A few more seconds would get him in. The buildings looked so tightly packed that he'd no trouble losing them, then he could get back to Solo and get the hell out of here. Maybe get this over with finally. If he played his cards right, he might be able to convince Solo to help get him back together with his friends. The man was an utter bastard but he did try to play the game on his own terms. That was admirable in its way. Logan wouldn't have been too surprised to found that Solo had already gone, but he suspected that wasn't going to happen. Why he was going through with all this instead of lighting the hell out of here, Logan had no idea. All he knew was that the man was spooked. Spooked and maybe for the first time considering a cause other than his own. Maybe.

Logan didn't know why he wasn't getting the hell out of here. None of this was his fight but he had to admit, he was a little bit curious. Hopefully that wouldn't get him killed.

On cue the lasers fired again, drawing parallel lines in the metal floor just inches from where he had been a second before. Getting too close now, but one final push and he'd be right-

"_Logan!_"

The distant voice broke his stride and brought him to pause for just a second. _What the-_

He had no time to even turn toward the sound of the voice before someone slammed into his torso, knocking him off-balance and sending them both rolling sideways, banging up against the hard surfaces, the world becoming different patterns of light and dark as he tried to regain his equilibrium. He was aware of someone shouting at him but the words were blurred, sand jammed into a broken filter.

"Don't" perhaps and "you don't" and further "wait, there's, wait" and by that time momentum had given him the advantage again. Flipping the extra weight off his body he came down hard, his claws already out with the same icy cold slithering sensation that he never got used to, pressing them right toward the face of-

"Han?" he asked, the collage of colors and patterns resolving themselves into a now familiar face. Solo was on his back, breathing heavily, both hands up in a defensive gesture.

"Don't . . ." he said, "don't go any further, it's . . ." Logan had pulled his hand back, giving Solo room to lever himself up on one elbow. He flexed his shoulder, wincing. "Damn, you're solid, that was like running into a wall."

"What are you doing, Han?" Logan said quickly, eyeing the Inseptons, who were hanging back, as if confused. But that wouldn't last for long.

"I realized, it hit me as you were running, what they were doing," Solo panted. "What side of the port this was." Logan said nothing, merely waited for him to catch his breath. "I recognized it," Solo said, pointing to Logan's left. So close now, he realized that the humming he had heard before was coming from a thinly shimmering wall that ran from floor to ceiling.

One of the Inseptons glided forward, eyestalks tilted, perhaps trying to get a better look at Solo. Logan turned and snarled at it, brandishing his claws and with a stream of noises like wood being chewed it backed off. Its partner stayed near, almost hovering. He saw now that a third one was present as well.

"It's a seal," Solo said. "Past that is only vacuum. That's what they were trying to do, steer you into it." With a grimace Solo grabbed Logan's arm and pulled himself into a sitting position.

"But there's buildings in there, why would they . . ." Logan broke off when he saw a shape move beyond the field, sliding into view. It was a squat cylinder, set on top of four wire-thin legs ending in treads equally spaced around the body. A variety of arms, ranging from stubby weapons to what looked like surgical tools, were arranged around the sides of the unit. A curved and flowing piece with a widened end crested the top of the "head", set between two slanted strips that appeared to act as eyes. Those eyes, glowing faintly, regarded them without passion or warmth.

"That's why," Solo said, for some reason keeping his voice low. "It's full of robots. Don't move."

After a few seconds of staring at them, the robot pivoted away and went back into the further recesses of the zone, with nothing but the cold light of the eyeslits and a continuous whirring marking the retreat of its passage.

Solo made a noise that sounded like a cough. "Ah, they give me the creeps. You'd think with droids I'd be used to it but . . ." he shook his head. "They're not the same thing at all."

"What's in there? What was that?" Logan thought he saw more movements deeper inside but it might have just been his imagination.

"Dakkers." He squinted into the dimness. "Among other things."

"Hm." Logan cast one last glance at the robot, now totally faded into its surroundings, before turning to regard the other aliens standing nearby. As his gaze swept over them, all three raised their weapons again, and the rising pitch began to pierce the air again.

"Is that how it's going to be, then?" Logan wondered outloud, getting to his feet and preparing to leap. The tips of his claws scraped against the floor, forging shallow grooves into it. "I should have just done it this way in the first place."

"No!" Solo exclaimed, moving in front of him with his hands up. "Don't shoot!" The comment was directed toward the Inseptons. The whining was suddenly cut off but they didn't lower their weapons. "It's me you want, you know that."

"_Him . . ._" one of the Inseptons hissed. With no visible mouths, it was unclear which one was speaking. "_You know where . . ._"

Lowering his hands, Solo stared at them and said quite soberly, "I'm sorry, but I do." His face indicated that it was knowledge he'd rather not have.  
Immediately they came forward, lasers charging again.

"_Tell . . ."_

"_Say or you won't find . . ._"

"_You think you . . ._"

"Come closer and you'll never know!" Solo said, cutting through their chatter and forcing them to a halt. "I'm serious about this," he said quickly. "You don't understand how the situation is . . . this guy here . . ." he jerked his head to the side to indicate Logan. "They hired him to follow me, in case I spill the coordinates. If I do, he has instructions to kill me. If even _thinks_ I'm going to-"

He stopped as Logan laid the edges of his claws inches from Solo's throat. "Go ahead," he said in a low growl. "Keep talking. I could use the time off."

As one the aliens all swiveled to train their weapons on Logan.

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa_," Solo called out, directing their attention back to him. "If you kill him, they're going to know and all hell is going to break loose then. We're going to have to make a deal here, all right? For any of this to work out in anyone's favor, we're going to have to talk this out."

One of the Inseptons crawled over to Solo, lifting himself up a bit by bending his upper body, ensuring that his eyes were level with the other man's. This close, there was a shiny softness to its body, somewhere between a shell and skin. "_Speak, then. Start, then._"

"Everyone's claiming it, right? That's the whole problem, everyone wants a piece of it. Either for leverage, or for what it contains or because they think it symbolizes something." He was talking quickly and praying that the alien knew what he was saying, that it was more a question of communicating than understanding. If not, that was why they invented guns. "But it belongs to you, so nobody else should have it. Right? I get that, I want to help you, I want to get it back to you." It twittered, but said nothing else.

"Careful, Solo," Logan warned. "Don't think I'm not listening."

"Easy, easy," Solo replied. "I'm not giving anything up." To the Insepton, he said, "You let me walk out of here, I'll, ah, give you my flight logs. It's there, the location is in the records."

"_Or tell us . . ._" it hissed.

"I can't, I _told _you," Solo shot back. Logan took another step closer as a reminder. "You'll have to sort it out from there and I'll . . . I'll stall for time as best I can, to give you time to get there." He licked dry lips, trying to make eye contact with the bobbing orbs. "That's the best I can promise. That's the absolute best I can do."

"You're treading a thin line, bub."

The one before him didn't speak. The others swayed, moving briefly closer to each other and then backing away rapidly, as if encountering strange resistance.

"_It's a need, so close . . ._"

"_What he says, if this is the way . . ._"

"_Finally find, let him tell . . ._"

The lead Insepton seemed to stiffen. "_Shut, stop_." Its voice carried more of a snap to its fractured speech. "_This deal, it's you?_"

"It's the best I can do." He hoped his voice didn't sound too hoarse. The alien smelled of dust and longing, put into small cubes and packed away so that they wouldn't be forgotten. That made no sense. He had to _focus_.

"It's too much," Logan said. "No deal, take it back." He grabbed Solo by the shoulder with his free hand. "Tell them that it's off, that you're not doing it."

"No." He kept his voice firm, although he had to pretend the blades weren't at his throat to do so. _I hope you have steady hands, pal_. "I don't care what you do to me, or how much they're paying you. This has got to be done. It's the right thing." His eyes were trying to find the Insepton's, forge some kind of connection.

"_Maybe, maybe, perhaps_." It sounded like it was trying out the words for the sound. "_But you . . . they? Who they?_" The question was asked with a blunted suddenness and Solo was acutely aware of how close the laser was to his stomach.

"What do you mean?" Doing his best to redirect, he said, "I'm putting my life on the line here for this, are you going to-"

"_They, you say they. In all the time, they._" A hand made of hard flexible fingers probed at his shirt, like bent needles pressing at his skin. He suppressed the urge to flinch. "_You never say but they. Where, who?_"

"Who? Who are they?" With all the proximities his mind suddenly went blank on a likely culprit they might believe. _Damn._ What did they know, that they might buy?

"They're dangerous," Logan said, with a fuzzed menace. "They don't want you around. That's all you need to know. Got it?"

The statement didn't seem to faze the alien, who kept leaning into Solo. "_No, we'll take. Not this, but they. Have no plan, and say. They. Have to say._"

"_Maybe none_," the other chimed in.

"_Maybe him._"

"_Maybe_," the lead one noted.

"Logan," Solo said slowly, "maybe you'd like to explain more to our new friends what your employers are capable of." He was starting to get a sense this wasn't going well.

"We're normally not ones for explaining," came the reply, and Solo had no idea if this was his way of sounding threatening or his idea of a joke.

He took a short breath and tried to keep his voice calm. The alien seemed to be quivering, as if getting ready. They might have to shoot their way out of this after all. He started to let his hand drift toward his belt. "But specifics might help them get a better idea of what they're-"

It started somewhere below sound, that was the only warning. A deep throated humming pervaded the entire area and interrupted the rest of his sentence. The back two Inseptons suddenly spun, but there seemed to be no source to the noise, it went so far down the scale that Solo felt his teeth rattling, like holes were being punched in the air itself and all that was solid was leaking out. How long it went on for he didn't know but he swore the dimness around them got even darker. But that was impossible.

"Now what?" Logan muttered, taking his claws away from Solo.

"_No_," the alien said. One or maybe all three at once. "_No_." "_No no no_." "_No_." It may have been their own language.

"Stay where you are!" came a booming voice, like ice tumbling down a steep hill. It was coming from between the buildings, on their side, although the origin of it was nowhere to be seen. "Nobody is to move!"

"_Who?_" The aliens were milling about. Solo thought he saw a glow verging on gradients of crimson coming from the spaces between the spires, bloodlets of light slowly spilling across the distance.

Solo seized on the moment. "It's them." One of the Inseptons pivoted swiftly, almost a question in its stance.

"_Them? They?_"

"Yeah." This time it was Logan who jumped in. "Now this situation is going to be taken care of."

The alien seemed to ignore him. "_This deal, you'll have? From now, done?_"

"Stall them. I'll get what you need. Meet us outside the port. All right?"

"Leave him where he is." The voice was closer, vibrating in every instance of the air.

"It's a deal, then?" He tried to make his voice as insistent as possible.

The Insepton tipped itself a bit, perhaps its version of a nod. It emitted a short cluster of sounds to its mates and they suddenly sped off toward the buildings. Solo thought he saw tall shadows draped like spikes across the floor, starting to move toward them.

When they were some distance away, Logan asked, "Who do you think that is?"

"I have no idea," Solo admitted, not taking his eyes off the area in question. His laser was already in his head. "But all the same to you, I'd rather not find out. I think it's time to go."

He was starting to walk away when a hand on his arm stopped him. "Listen, Han." Turning, he found Logan regarding him with an unreadable expression. "Thanks." And that was all he said.

Solo stood there for a second without a reply. Then, with a twitch at the edge of his lip, he replied, "Yeah, well, watch where you're going next time and you won't have to thank me."

Logan snorted and turned his head to hide his own smile.

A scream went out from the gaps in the building, long and sustained and shredded, overlapped in a chorus. The glow was embedded in the air and the glow was closer and the glow was gone. The aliens were nowhere to be seen.

The two men exchanged glances and without another word, ran for it.

******

Entering the Comout sector again was being encased in a cold shell. Neither man commented on the eerie glassy emptiness of it, although several times their own dark reflections, played out in angular permutations, reminded them of other pursuers that walked sideways edges and lurked around every corner, waiting to step out of nowhere and snag them. There were voices leaked into the air, memories slowly falling out of solution, precipitates of words cascading down lighter than flakes, piped in from other sectors of the port, from dreams, from every conversation that had never existed.

The flickering silence didn't seem to bother Logan, although it gave Solo a certain sense of unease. "The docking bays are over this way, I'm pretty sure." Logan only nodded, his eyes elsewhere, somewhere further into thought.

"Would you have made a deal with them?" The question, when finally asked, was more contemplation than accusation.

"I don't know," Solo replied. He glanced over at the other man, trying to gauge his reaction. "I told you, it's complicated."

"And you don't like complicated."

"Right on the first guess." They turned a corner and reached a long row of circular doors sunk into thickened walls. The air was slightly cooler over here, their footsteps echoing a little further. "I'd really like to just step out of the way and let the bunch of them fight it out amongst themselves. Let them all kill each other over it. It's just a stupid . . ." He stopped at the first door, took a small device out of his belt and held it toward the entryway. It made a low flat beep, causing him to tap the side of it. The same noise came out and Solo frowned, continuing to walk down the corridor. "It's not worth it. That's all."

"You seem to be in the minority on that."

That caused Solo to laugh dryly. "Seems that way. The Inseptons want it back because it used to be theirs, the Empire wants it because they want to own everything, then there's all the scientists and cults . . . get this, on Altarus Four there's a group that believes they're the physical embodiment of it, that it's broken down and dissolved into the universe and reformed as them."

"Really."

The next door coaxed the same response from the device. "Honest. All they do is talk about unlocking the secrets inside of them. And if they ever run into an Insepton, they follow the damn thing around, asking it to take them back and show them the way." He laughed again, shaking his head. "That's the galaxy for you, weird place. I keep expecting to get used to it, and I don't. Know what I mean?"

"I think so." Another door, another dry beep. "With my friends, I see a lot of strange things . . . but it's like the _same_ strange things, all the time." He rubbed his hands together, absently cracking his knuckles. The noise was gunshots in the quiet. "I've got this friend, sometimes she loses control and turns into this . . . force of nature." There were red fires in his eyes and the barest hint of a tremor in his voice. "And we have to stop her, every time. I think it's maybe three times already. And I want to keep telling her when it happens, _this isn't going to work, it's time to try something new_." He shrugged. "But it feels new each time, for some reason. At least everyone else seems surprised."

"Mm," Solo said. This time the device gave off a slightly higher pitched beeping and he nodded to himself, pleased. "And what does she try to do each time, kill you?"

Logan thought about this. "More or less. She never has a real specific plan."

"Hey, take my advice for what it's worth, but it might be time for some new friends." He was fiddling with some buttons on the device.

"I'll keep that in mind." As he spoke there was a single long note and the door spiraled open, twisting like an iris. There was a whooshing noise as the pressures equalized.

"Ah, here we go, then. Finally. Come on." Solo stepped into the long corridor, and Logan followed shortly afterwards.

"Welcome to my ship," Solo said, as they walked through the docking connector, toward the body of a craft that was both jagged and curved, a sort of dull grey with a number of bumps and crevices that might have hid sensors and other instruments. Tapping the small device again, the ship hummed as if in recognition, a door opening like gentle jaws, revealing the darkened interior. Solo tapped the side of it as if greeting an old friend.

"Fastest ship you'll find around," he said as they came inside. The interior was somewhat cramped, with very little open space, although the center of the ship held a circular area with what appeared to be a couch of sorts. Across from it was an engineering station, with lights blinking placidly. The cockpit was toward the front, set off-center on the ship. "Just give me a minute to warm this baby up and we'll be on our way."

"You know where you're going?" Logan was poking around casually, doing his best to avoid stepping on anything that looked remotely important.

"Yeah." Solo was checking various panels and displays on the console, muttering to himself and adjusting certain settings.

Meanwhile, a spot on the wall caught Logan's eye. Stepping over to it, he realized that it in the shape of a handprint. Tracing its contours, he noticed that it was burned into the metal, and went a few inches deep. Frowning, he stepped away from it.

Then his gaze went over to one darkened corner of the ship, and his eyes widened.

"Han . . ." he said.

"So just go and make yourself comfortable, we'll be leaving in a few-"

"_Han_," Logan hissed and Solo turned to see the man's claws already out as he pointed toward the back of the ship.

"What are you . . . _damn_," he said, finally seeing what Logan was indicating.

The blank visor of a stormtrooper's helmet was staring right at them.

Solo already had his laser out. "Stay back, I'll take care of-"

"Wait," Logan said, having already covered most of the distance. The trooper hadn't moved the whole time thus far and remained still even when Logan walked right up to him. He sniffed the air. "I think he's . . ."

He tapped the trooper on his arm and with an almost comedic slowness, the body slid from where it had been propped in the corner and tumbled to the floor.

"What the hell?" Solo said, racing over even as Logan bent down to examine the body. "He's dead?"

"The internal defenses must have got him," Logan said. He tapped the center of the armor, near the chest. "This must be what killed him." His fingers indicated a neat, maybe two-inch hole drilled right into the armor.

"That's not possible," Solo said, and when Logan gave him a strange look he explained further, "The ship has no internal defenses, it's too dangerous."

Logan's eyes narrowed. "Maybe he was shot and crawled into the ship."

"No, no," Solo countered. "He wasn't shot, look." Getting down on one knee, he pointed to the edge of the hole. "If it was a laser there would be burn marks around the edges. This is neat, there's no heat scarring at all. But what causes that?"

"So someone else killed him."

"Looks like it," Solo said. "The troopers must have found the ship while we were running around, and set up this guy to catch us in case we snuck around and tried to escape."

"Except someone else got to him first." Logan didn't seem pleased at all to have discovered that revelation. "Who?"

"More importantly," Solo answered, sitting up straighter, bringing his laser up, "where are they now?"

"Do you really want to find out?" Logan asked grimly.

And from the deeper recesses of the ship, there was a clatter.


	2. Out in the Dark

Full title: _Out in the Dark They Can Do What They Want All The Time_

The story was originally written as a surprise for someone without any real plans to go past that last part. When it was clear I had to (due to, um, reader insistence), I came up with a fairly decent extrapolation of what I had already started and that's when things started to balloon into epic status.

We reach the point where my characters start outnumbering the copyrighted ones. The Inseptons are more or less explained, the Comouts are a insect-like race that is based out of our solar system (past Pluto) and the Dark Riders are just . . . unpleasant. As usual, any questions, feel free to ask!  
_

* * *

_

Both men immediately leapt up upon hearing the noise. There was a metallic hiss and Solo saw both sets of claws emerge from the back of Logan's hands. Instantly tensed, his eyes swept the narrowed corridor and the parts that might lie around the corners.

"Easy," Solo whispered, even as he shifted so that his gun was held solidly in both hands. "Don't go cutting up my ship."

"Then make sure you ask him to stay still when we find him." He was already moving, hugging the wall. Casting his gaze around warily, Solo followed, looking into every shadow and seeing each aspect of the corridor like it was brand new. There was a shivery air inside the ship that he didn't recognize, _something_ had lingered here for so long that it had begun to seep into the ship itself. He didn't like this, didn't want to see his beloved craft becoming something unfamiliar.

"Come _on_," he begged, doing his best not to aim at every stray noise.

"Look at this." Logan had reached the engineering station, the pale green and red lights of the monitors projecting onto his face. The claws on one hand had been withdrawn and his fingers were tapping at the screen.

"What?"

Logan glanced over his shoulder and snorted. "You tell me, bub. Spaceships aren't exactly my area of expertise."

"It's, ah . . ." he brushed Logan aside, holstering his laser and examining the readouts. "Wait a minute, this isn't how I left it. I had kept the engines idle so that I could power them back up at a moment's notice."

"Expecting trouble?"

"Never hurts to be too careful. And it's not like I was wrong, hm?" He hit a few more buttons, graphs and numbers projecting themselves from the screen and forming into layers stacks, each one taking him deeper into the problem. "But, no," he muttered, "someone else has been messing with them, what the hell were they doing-"

"That probably wasn't our ventilated soldier's doing then, was it?"

"The hell it was, they wouldn't know how to-"

Behind them the freight elevator slid open with a grinded _shoosh_ and a shadow launched itself at them.

Solo saw it before Logan and that was only because he had started to turn toward the man when it emerged. There was no time to call out as it struck Logan, sending him spinning into Solo and crashing into the wall near the engineering banks. He half-slid down the wall before stopping himself, shaking his head fuzzily.

"What the . . ." he muttered, apparently dazed, his boot heels scraping at the floor and trying to get back up.

Solo already had his laser out. "You picked the wrong ship to break into, pal-" the rest of his words getting cut off in the echoed whine of the laser fired in the ship's confines.

The blast splashed against the back wall where the shadow had been standing a moment ago. _How did he even manage to_. The afterimages from the shot were still fading in his eyes when a casual hand knocked the laser away from him, sending it rattling across the floor. "No, wait," Solo said, but it was all slow motion as the same hand moved and twisted, almost like it didn't possess bones, grabbing him by the shoulder and tossing him in the opposite direction.

"Ah!" He rolled as his landed, feeling his arm wrench in the socket as his view of the ship turned over and upside down. _Get up,_ he told himself, almost screaming the words in his head. _You slow bastard, get the hell up before he_.

In a dizzied blur, he saw Logan finally move, launching himself from the near-sitting position at the shadow. It caught him easily, too easily, and slammed him up against the wall. He heard Logan curse and slash out with his claws, heard the screeching wail as they sliced into the ship. But the shadow was already somewhere else, behind him, expanding and contracting with every motion.

_No. No_. That wasn't right. He levered himself up onto his knees, the world going all wobbly. The ship seemed to be divided into two zones where time wasn't running at the same rate, Solo's dripping down like viscous Harjellan wine and Logan's gone quicksilver, the two of them dodging around each other without friction, dark versus small, the glint of Logan's flashing claws nearly swallowed up by his opponent's absence.

Suddenly Logan ducked down and came up again, his fist punching at the shadow's center. It deflected it but the force of the blow caused it to stagger backwards and Solo heard the distinct sound of cloth unfurling against metal. His eyes were starting to adjust to the speed of everything and he could see now that it was shaped like a man. Already tall, standing near Logan made it seem to tower over him like the cord of a space elevator. It was wearing a cape that extended from the shoulders and descended nearly to the floor and dressed in some kind of black armor that didn't appear to have any seams.

_That looks like_. Solo felt some small part of his blood freeze. _No, it can't be_. The face was hard to see but it appeared to be wearing some kind of angular mask, the eyes only seen as glowing slits. _I've never seen him but maybe_. With the stormtroopers roaming the port and everything else . . . he didn't want to think about it. Just get through this. Just survive this, Solo.

"A little help would be nice," Logan shouted over his shoulder as he dove toward the man, connecting this time, the impact sending both of them tumbling around the corner.

"Not all of us have built in weapons," Solo called out, racing forward to follow, scooping up his laser along the way. The two of them were crashing ahead of him, the shadowed man blocking Logan's blows effortlessly, stopping his arms at the wrist so that the claws never had a chance to reach him. But he wasn't gaining any advantage either.

The two of them were grappling close together, the other man seeming to do it one-handed. They were revolving in the center of the corridor, slamming against the walls. The floor was already littered with broken components and sheared off pieces of the ship. _This is coming out of your pay_, Solo thought darkly as he tried to steady his arm for the was trying to push all resemblances out of his head and it was getting harder.

Logan flung his arms out, finding leverage somewhere and forcing the man to disengage. He stumbled back a few steps but then landed on the balls of his feet with immeasurable grace, one foot planted almost delicately behind the other. The cape swept back and around, enveloping him like it had a mind of his own.

"Got you now," Solo said, squeezing the trigger.

"No." Just the word was a silken whisper, sandpaper on the mind. The man's hand went to his belt, to a object clipped in the recesses.

The inside of the ship was suddenly awash in crimson light. Logan staggered back, eyes gone wide, one hand up as the glow stained his claws bloody.

With a pinging ricochet Solo's laser bounced off the unsheathed blade and rocketed into another portion of the ship. Seeing the weapon, he almost dropped his own and ran for the escape pods. _No, it's not him, it's not him, it's not _him_. _It was hard to breathe, the air had gone stagnant.

Immediately it swung at Logan, who ducked purely by instinct. It dug into the metal of the ship and carved a deep scar. Oil and hydraulic fluid leaked out from the cracks as the man brought the blade down, forcing Logan to dive to the side. Awkwardly he swiped at the man's legs with his own claws but from his angle the man could easily dance back.

"You can shoot at any time!" Logan ordered, pivoting and springing back to his feet. The blade was leaving hazy afterimages in the air, a subcutaneous humming that seemed to burrow into every layer of the skin and past. The sword came at his head again and he almost brought his claws up to block it. Seemingly thinking better of it, he leapt back, the man following him effortlessly, the tip of the blade hovering just inches from his body at all times.

"One of you needs to stand still!" But he couldn't the thought out of his head. It was only a single glimpse a few years back, hiding in the wake of a massacre of rebels and hoping not to get caught in the sweep. He had ducked inside a home and was watching the town square from a window when _he_ came in to survey the damage. Imposing and like a dirty splotch on the freshly snowed landscape. They had brought a man to him and the man had kept screaming at him, his entire distant face contorted in rage. And the dark man never twitched, he just reached out and touched him with a single hand. Brushed up against him and the screaming man fell to the ground and stopped moving. They walked away and he didn't get up and nobody touched the body. Nobody did. He had watched it for what felt like a very long time.

_And he was here. He was here now_. "Dammit," he muttered, telling himself that the sweat he felt running down his back was from the exertion.

He fired again but must have twitched at the last second because the man simply wasn't _there_ again, the bolt flying harmlessly by. Logan was moving in the wake of it, barreling into the man, shoving his arm aside to avoid the blade and trying to smash him up against the opposite wall. The other hand hooked at him and Solo saw it wasn't a proper hand at all but some kind of fork.

But somehow he was able to use it to lever Logan up and over, ducking down and around in ways that didn't seem possible, allowing the other man to arc over his head and land heavily on the ground. His impact made a noise like scaffolding crashing down and he rolled painfully, unable to react for a second.

Meanwhile, the man stood over him, the blade ready to come down. Its contrasts barely seemed to eat at the dark man's contours while painting Logan as a kind of frozen warning.

"I've got him," Solo said, trying to feel some semblance of calm.

Two shots slammed into the man abruptly, the first one striking him in the chest, sending him flailing backwards a few steps, the sword swinging wildly. Part of the armor went missing, revealing nothing but a brief fire and a deeper blackness. The second shot struck him in the side of the head, forcing the mask to buckle and collapse inwards, tendrils of fire briefly running around the outlines of it.

Without a sound and with a charred smell, the man tumbled to the floor. The sword rolled out of his limp hand and stopped somewhere near Solo's feet.

Exhaling slowly, Logan painfully got to his knees. "About time you decided to do something," he said with some sarcasm, pulling into a sitting position and rubbing at his face.

Solo lowered the laser. "I don't think that was me."

"No," said a new voice from the doorway. "It was me." Multiple legs tapped against the metal floor as a long body slid into view. "After all," the Insepton added, "it didn't seem like you were making any progress."

* * * *

Logan was the first to react. Lunging close to the alien, the tips of his claws were inches from the newcomer's face. "That's as far as you go."

The Insepton didn't even twitch. Making a rattling noise that might have been a sigh, it said, "If you insist. But your arm is going to get awful tired as I don't plan on going anywhere any time soon. We have business to discuss."

Solo had his laser trained on the alien, whose own weapon was held loosely in the wiry arm. "I think the only business we're going to discuss is how soon you're leaving."

The eyestalks bounced to regard both of them. "Right," it said in a bored tone. "Please get it all out of your systems now while nobody is trying to kill us. It will only get in the way later." Ducking sinuously under Logan's arm, it came further into the ship, seemingly ignoring both men. "Unless you'd like us to waste time attempting to slaughter each other, although you strike me as marginally more intelligent than that." It slipped the weapon into a pocket that appeared in its skin and went over to the dead man's body.

Solo and Logan exchanged confused glances, with Logan raising one eyebrow.

"Why weren't you speaking English before?" Logan asked, coming up behind the alien, although with his claws sheathed.

"English?" Solo muttered, giving Logan an odd glance.

"Before?" It seemed distracted for a moment and then looked at Logan in surprise. "Oh . . . _before_." A noise not unlike a bushel of sticks breaking was heard, perhaps its version of laughter. "I forget we must all look the same to you. We've never met before, although you haven't been difficult to track over the port."

"The others didn't talk like you, though." Solo bent down to examine the body as well. Now that he could see it close up he realized it wasn't who he thought it was at all. The body was slim, almost lithe and was functionally ornate after a fashion. His suspicions that the one hand was a two-pronged fork were confirmed, although he had no idea what might be used for. Now still, the body had a strange emptiness to it, Solo felt he could lift it up and there would be no weight to the armor at all.

"The others never bothered to learn the language. Not that it would have helped them from getting killed." The Insepton's nimble fingers probed at the cracks in the dead man's face, pulling them slightly aside so it could get a better look. "Ah." All Solo saw was a deeper and more solid darkness but he couldn't tell for sure.

"They're dead?"

"Oh, yes." One eye bobbed up to stare at Solo. Logan was pacing around behind them, perhaps fearing more were somewhere around. "Killed by more of this fellow here."

"You don't sound too sad over that." Logan came from around a corner that Solo hadn't even seen vanish into.

It looked up at him and if it could have shrugged, it might have done so. "Why would I be? They were fools, getting ahead of themselves. The Regathering cannot occur until the _forsgalai_ is recovered and yet they were working together in defiance of it. Separate, we accomplish more. They knew this and banded anyway. Their fate was exactly what they deserved." There was no semblance of anger or disappointment in the alien's voice, just a simple matter-of-factness. "However, none of that is any of our concerns. What should worry you more is the presence of_ these_ on the port."

"Yeah, what is this?" Logan crouched down, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. "This guy here, it's odd. He's got no scent at all. He snuck up on us and I didn't even _hear _him. What is he, some kind of android?"

"This," the Insepton said, "is a Dark Rider. A servant, in a sense, and a warrior, and the last element we need inserting itself into this situation. They hail from another dimension, it is said. And he was not the only one of his kind on the port."

"But what do they want?" Solo wondered out loud. He didn't even need to wait for an answer. "The same thing everyone else does."

"At least they're all consistent," Logan said under his breath.

"Perhaps, but none of them have any claim on it as _we_ do." The Insepton ran his fingers along the fabric of the cape.

The forcefulness of the alien's words caused Solo to go back a step, in the process nearly tripping over the sword. "Dammit," he said, his foot coming a bit too close to the blade for his comfort. Picking it up gingerly by the hilt, he said, "Are you sure it's a . . . Dark Rider? Because this sword here sure seems like it should belong to someone else."

"Careful," the Insepton warned. It plucked the weapon out of Solo's hands with a quick gesture, the blade hissing through the air as he swung it. "No, this is a Dark Rider and this is a Dark Rider's weapon. There are rumors that some of your kind may carry blades like these but they are not the same. No, a laser sword is only carried by two types of beings." Its fingers felt along the hilt, probing along the smooth surface. "One lies here before us." Finding a recessed switch, it slid its fingers along it and with an exhaled sigh the blade fell back into the hilt. It seemed that much darker in the room suddenly. "The other is something far worse."

And then without hesitation it flung the sword against the nearest wall, startling both men. It shattered immediately, falling in inert pieces to the floor, completely broken.

"What the hell was that?" Logan demanded. "One of us could have used that."

"Oh, I doubt it," the Insepton said, scuttling forward. "None of us here have the control required for such a weapon. It is said that to achieve mastery with the sword, they must be able to cut the darkness that shrouds their home and inflict scars upon it. Others venture that they spend centuries narrowing the blade so that they may carve their name into the molecules themselves, in the hopes of marking all creation."

Logan snorted. "Buddy, those are just stories."

"Oh, I agree," the Insepton replied. "But as with any story, it hides truths that we are not totally prepared to face." It turned away from Logan, heading toward the cockpit of the ship. "In any event, we are wasting time here. I trust you've already prepared the ship for takeoff? We should be leaving soon."

"Whoa, _whoa_," Solo said, stepping in front of the alien. Half-laughing, he said, "Who said you're coming with us?"

The alien didn't even seem fazed, although its lack of human expression didn't help. "You are departing the port soon, correct? For the location of the _forsgalai_, what belongs to us. I will be coming with you, so that I may reclaim it for my kind and trigger the Regathering. The sooner we leave for it, the less we will have to bear each other's company."

"I don't think that's happening, pal." Solo's hand was going to his belt. "I think it's time you got off the ship and piggybacked with someone else. Thanks a heap for saving us and everything but I'm not taking on any other passengers."

"Ah, I see," the Insepton said. "You're not completely grasping this. I suspect you have another mission with it that you feel takes precedence. Let me put it in other terms, then . . . it does not matter what quest you thought you were on before. That is all changed now. You will assist me in reclaiming it."

"You're not going to hear me ask again." He had the gun pointed right at the center of the alien's face. "Getting rid of two bodies isn't much harder than getting rid of one." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Logan moving, placing himself behind the Insepton.

The alien reached for its own weapon, segmented arms impossibly flexible. "I've been told that humans often requires matters to be explained to them several times before it sinks in. This situation will end in one of two ways . . . either you assist me or I will shoot you."

"There's a third option too," Logan hissed, crouching down next to the alien and placing his fist right behind its head. Solo thought he saw the tips of his claws poking out, an impending and violent birth.

"No, there are still only two." It was quite calm.

"I'm the only one who knows where it is," Solo explained, for some reason not wanting to see this turn into yet another bloodbath. "You're just bluffing, you have no reason to kill me."

"More importantly, you have no reason to want to die." Its stubby gun focused on his chest. "Understand this, we _know_ that the _forsgalai_ will be found some day. If it is not today and it is not because of you, then it will be on some other day and some other method. I have been searching from the moment I emerged into this life and if the search must continue, then so it must. Other opportunities will someday present themselves to others of my kind."

"Put that gun down or you'll be doing all your searching as a ghost." Another inch closer and were the claws sliding out? "You may want to rethink this."

One eyestalk swiveled to regard Logan. "I've done nothing but think about it. If you do not aid me, then I will shoot Han Solo and I will kill him. I imagine you will see to it that my life will not last much longer than that. If you think that will deter me in some fashion, you are mistaken. All any of us can do is take the search as far as we can, and if this is my end, then it is as it should be. The search will go on, without me, and I will have fulfilled my part in it. You, on the other hand, will be in a spaceship full of bodies that you cannot pilot, on a port that is about to become flooded with Empire soldiers and Dark Riders, all of whom will think you have some knowledge of what they seek. Which of us will have the more enviable position, in that case?"

Solo licked dry lips. "Back off, Logan, just . . . back off."

Logan glanced up. "You sure about that?"

"Listen to him, he doesn't give a damn whether he lives or dies." With a quick gesture he returned his laser to his belt and stepped past the Insepton. "This isn't worth us getting killed over it because this guy is nuts. He wants to come along with us, fine. Let everything falls as it does, then, I really don't care. I just want this over with."

"All right." Logan stood up slowly, although he didn't take his eyes off the Insepton. "Are we leaving, then?"

"I'd like to," Solo called out from another the corner. Presumably he had gone back to examine the engineering readouts. Logan stayed put, to keep an eye on the alien, who had returned its weapon to the holster and was idly poking around the ship, examining various components. Logan wanted to stop him, but in all honesty he didn't know which parts were important or not.

"I just want to see if that bastard did anything to my . . . _dammit!_" There was the sound of a fist banging against metal and Logan took off around the corridor as a shot, fearing another attack.

He found Solo leaning against the wall opposite from the console, one hand pressed against the bridge of his nose. The three dimensional readouts were again floating over the computers but Logan couldn't make heads or tails out of them.

"Not good news?"

"He did something to the engines, they were rigged so that once they were engaged they'd force a chain reaction and collapse inwards. Don't ask me how he did it, he had to disable several safety features to even start." He sighed and shook his head.

"How dead would we have been?"

"Very. And not just us, it would have ripped through the port and caused an indentation in space. Maybe the damn robots would survive but I don't even know about that. _Ah_." He leaned his head back against the wall, eyes half-closed. He looked very tired, gazing at Logan out of his peripheral vision. "It's really never easy, is it?"

"Not that I've ever found," Logan replied with a frown. "So what are we going to do about it?"

"I already started a reprogramming procedure to put everything back." Logan could see tiny lights running up and down the banks, while different shapes merged and danced in the tinted readouts. "It's going to take a while though."

"Time we don't have." The Insepton slithered into view. "Hear that?"

Logan tilted his head to the side. "Some kind of . . . siren?" Solo strained but heard nothing beyond the familiar hummings and churnings of the ship.

"Yes. The port is losing control of the situation, something the Empire will take advantage of and use to move in shortly. The Dark Riders have already infiltrated and it is only a matter of time before one of the groups finds us."

"I can seal the ship from the port and we can sit tight," Solo offered. "That would be our best bet."

"That would be a grave mistake. And it won't stop the Dark Riders." There was a certain grimness to the alien's speech. "Other measures must be taken. Yes." Without warning it suddenly pivoted in the narrow corridor and went back to the front of the ship.

"What the hell is he doing?" Solo asked, darting after the Insepton. It was moving swiftly, already reaching the connection between the ship and the port even as Solo came around the bend.

"You could just let him go," Logan said.

Solo didn't break his stride. "What are the chances of whatever the hell he's doing not involving us?" He noticed that Logan didn't slow down either and the two of them dashed through the connecting tunnel.

They emerged outside again into the Comout's sector, greeted again with the dimness of the area and the constant mirrored surfaces that appeared to reflect darkened lakes. There was no sign of the Insepton and Solo threw his hands up in frustration, swearing under his breath.

Logan narrowed his eyes and peered down into the gloom. "Wait," he said, holding up a hand. His nostrils flared slightly. "He's over this way," and he took off at a loping pace leaving Solo with no choice but to follow.

They found him slightly further on, where the sector had grown a bit brighter due to the restoration of the port's clear ceiling overhead, allowing for starlight to come leaking through. They shown above in random dense patterns, the different shades of pale light giving the Insepton a mottled appearance.

He wasn't facing them but seemed to know they were approaching. "We can't do this on our own anymore," he said, eyestalks twitching. "It's going to require other assistance."

"Hey, listen," Solo said, jogging the last few steps to catch up to Logan. "What the hell do you think you're even doing?"

"I've already told you, getting help." Did it twitch just then, as if nervous?

"No. _No_." Solo went around and bent down so that he was level with the alien's eyes. "That isn't how it works, pal. We're all on-board this together, you want to go off and do something, you _discuss_ it with us first because it's _all_ our necks on the line here, okay? And maybe you don't care about getting killed, but the rest of us do. Or I will strap you to the engines myself when we do take off. Got it?"

"Are you quite finished?"

Solo blinked, rocked back slightly. "Yeah. I guess I am. So before you do anything, how about telling us exactly what this little plan of yours entails."

The Insepton bent a little in its middle and pivoted. "There isn't anything to tell. It's already been done."

Solo sprang to his feet. "Wait, what do you mean by-"

"Han." Something in Logan's voice forced Solo to stop immediately. The other man was staring upwards, starlight producing shards of light and darkness on his face. For the first time, he didn't look out of place on the port. "You may want to see this."

Solo looked up.

* * * * *

It was space above, the way it had always been. Flat and forever and impossibly beautiful. Too often he had met people that believed it was all static and sterile, dim lights poking through an endless sheet of darkness. They were wrong, he could look up there and see nothing but constant motion, the spaceships darting between stars, the stars acting as the center of the planets' stately rotations, the systems pivoting around each other, the galaxies whirling in endlessly slow dances, arms drifting eternally outward in elegant and gentle drift. _How do you get up there?_ he had asked once, pointing at the sky and marveling at how huge it was and how his hand could cover so much of it. _You fly up_, was the response, _you fly up until there is no up or down anymore and that's how you know you're there_. So he had gone up and stayed up and at some point decided to never come back down again.

Up into the space above. The space that was different now.

The space that now held a ship, hovering overhead.

"Oh boy, that's not good," Solo muttered, stepping back even though he knew it would do nothing.

It was far enough above that the whole length of it could be seen. It was rounded on one end, almost a sphere, with a tail that tapered off into a fine point. Merely sitting there, it appeared to be tacked onto the landscape.

"What did you do?" Solo demanded, rounding on the Insepton. "What the hell did you do?" It merely stared at him without speaking.

In the distance a ringing siren could be heard, growing louder and louder, filling up every available space. Words babbled forth in several different languages, none of it sounding reassuring, cascading forwards in tumbles of barely concealed panic. _Do not be alarmed_, it seemed to proclaim, trying to shout over the noise of a world collapsing. _There is nothing to worry about. Please stay put_.

The space next to the ship flickered slightly and _bent_ and suddenly there was another ship present. Two more dropped in nearby, followed by several others as the first ones to arrive gradually began to spread out, some of them moving out of view of the port's ceiling.

"Han, who are they?" Logan asked, his fists clenching helplessly. He looked like a man who desperately wanted something to hit. "What just happened?" The anger in his voice was doing its best to mask his utter confusion.

"Those were ships coming out of hyperspace," Han said breathlessly. "They must have dropped right out . . . that's, that's not easy. Most of the time unless you're extremely precise you run the risk of materializing into a planet or port if you're even a little bit off. We're good and even I drop in a half-parsec away and then drift . . ." he stopped, seeing Logan's expression. "At what point did I lose you?"

"You could have just stuck with 'it's not easy'," he replied dryly. Clasping his hands together and cracking a knuckle, he added, "Or just answered my first question. Who _are_ these people?"

"We're standing in their patch of home here," the Insepton broke in. "Those are Comout ships above us."

The ground under their feet suddenly vibrated as a not-too distant _clang_ was heard.

"And in a few moments you'll get to meet them." The alien scuttled away, ducking back toward the docking bays. "Come."

Neither man moved right away. Logan leaned over and whispered to Solo, "Are we really doing this?"

Solo didn't look at him. Staring straight ahead at a distance he couldn't see properly, he said, "What other choice do we have?"

"Jump him now? Run for it while we can?" Solo didn't blink or respond. "You strike me as the kind of man who might try to overwhelm the crew and take over the ship." An aborted metallic hiss sighed from his hand. "And I'm just the kind of man who might help you."

"No." Solo visibly shook himself, rousing himself from a dream. "We've got to play it his way for the moment." He started walking where the Insepton had gone, his steps too measured, although without hesitation. His boots clanked hollowly on the floor, echoing without resonance. "This is going to be the safest place for us now. And if we bolt he's going to be able to find us."

"Don't be so sure."

Solo shot him a look. "They've been spending ages trying to find the most well hidden object in the entire universe. With that kind of practice, anything else is easy. And what is with you, anyway, you sound like you _want_ to get into a fight."

"And you sound like a man who's trying to avoid one," Logan retorted. "I thought you said these guys weren't supposed to get this thing. Now we're about to hand it to him. You got a reason?"

"Just the best one of all. It'll give us time until I think of something better." For the first time a bit of fire came back into his eyes. They had rounded the corner and could see the Insepton standing before one of the docking bay doors, alone and small. "Now, you want to beat up an entire ship of aliens, be my guest, but this isn't over yet."

Logan stared at him for a few seconds before nodding solemnly. "As long as I get to reserve it as a plan B."

Solo laughed quietly but gleefully. "That's the spirit."

Ahead, the Insepton wasn't even looking at them, although with his eyes set the way they were it was hard to tell exactly how his peripheral vision went. There was a steady whirring behind the great metal door as a massive weight outside was interfacing with the port.

"Why would they come back?" Solo called out across the narrowing distance. "They haven't occupied this section in years, how did you bring them here?"

"They never really left," the Insepton said. So soft, its voice somehow carried. It was rubbing its hands together, fingers threatening to tie themselves into knots. "They simply were not _here_. Flitting against your dark backgrounds and from star to star, carving their own trails on the outside. You never found them because you might move to where they had once been, only for they already to be gone." The door was starting to rotate, ponderous and keening. The two men had reached the alien. Logan rocked back on his heels, alert. Solo simply watched, not flinching as the sound began to crescendo. "You don't understand them at all. They have no use for other races, you are only significant to the extent that you don't affect them."

With an exhaled cough the bay door suddenly lurched open, unleashing a gust of dusted air, warm around the edges. Stout humanoid shapes could be seen through the silhouetted gloom, arranging themselves in triangular formation. The glaring hum of the ever-present siren seemed a jagged wind they all had to struggle against.

"They went to roam and left _you_ here, seething and crawling, clinging to this disintegrating hunk of metal floating in space. Leaving you to cry at the pitiless dark, as if occupying a speck was some kind of victory while they pushed ever further outward." The thick droned roar of the opening door was being replaced by a different kind of wail, the narrowed scream of a charging laser. "They did not abandon this place. It was ever only a place for them to rest, before they finally moved on."

"I think I liked your buddies better," Solo sneered. "They didn't _babble_ as much. You got a point here?"

"Only this." There was a noise like a shell imploding and suddenly men of all shades of brown and grey burst out from the entryway, fanning out to either side. The air was immediately flush with a constant dense wave of chittering as shadows leapt up and around, surrounding the three of them. In the semi-dark two details could be made out instantly. One was the pinpricked glow emanating from the tips of their weapons, a series of flickering eyes ready to blink at the slightest move.

"I did not bring them back here."

The second detail was that they were not even remotely human.

"All I did was remind them."

Blocky bodies set on thickened legs that seemed to bend backwards at the knee, both steady and swaying. Bipedal, they stood up straight although some were crouching down. Their arms ended in what appeared to be multi-jointed claws, like a crustacean's.

One came close to Logan, spraying out a rapid series of staccato notes. He drew back a step, lips drawn tightly together. "Bugs," he whispered, and allowed himself nothing more.

But indeed. Their eyes were rounded and set on opposite sides of their heads, their mouths complex and set with a series of mandibles. Two slim antenna drooped from the tops of their foreheads, twitching at the tips, as if constantly scanning. They appeared to be dressed in a kind of tightly woven uniform that glistened in the meager light, knitted scales that bent without creasing.

"What is this?" Solo said, looking about quickly, one hand resting on the butt of his laser. The chattering only increased, cutting through the screeching alarm like a rain of serrated edges. "Tell them to put their weapons down." Their speech sounded like bullets hitting the roof of a metal shed and ricocheting onto concrete.

"We're swiftly approaching plan B," Logan muttered.

The Insepton shouted a word then, buzzing like a slash through all the racket. The aliens' clatter didn't go away entirely but it lightened considerably. The Insepton wheeled about, legs skittering underneath to keep it stable, wielding the word like a rapier and letting it brush against all of them.

When he finished the word hung uneasily overhead, a snowfall that hadn't quite decided to descend. None of the Comouts twitched or wavered, and Solo was starting to wonder if he was going to have to improvise faster than he had expected. Logan had managed to grow even shorter, as if compressing himself, hands clenched into loose fists, achieving a coiled stance.

As the near-silence stretched into the second minute, one of the Comouts stood up and broke away from the circle, approaching the center where the Insepton stood. It had on a slightly more supple uniform, although old cracks and other signs of age were noticeable. Its weapon, a slim device that was held deftly in the sharpened claws, was pointed toward the floor, although Solo suspected it could be brought back to bear very quickly if the need presented itself.

The Comout barked out a series of fast phrases to the Insepton then, the overall effect not unlike sound itself vomiting sideways through the wall of its own skin. Music ran through a grater and reassembled blindly, with no regard for logic or continuity.

The Insepton answered in kind, its grasp of the rhythm not seeming as fluid. The Comout's antennae twitched as if refocusing on all the details around it even as its face gave no clues as to what it might have been thinking. The two of them went back and forth in that fashion for a minute or two, the words escalating and falling without any kind of link to reason.

Finally a silence came as the two aliens regarded each other. The Comout snapped out a jagged phrase while bringing his pincer down in a sharp gesture. Solo didn't know what it meant but the action was clear to the others, who all lowered their weapons. Still, they kept a distance from his company, even as the Insepton and the lead Comout continued to speak quietly.

"This is a step in the right direction," Solo noted.

"Unless what they have in mind doesn't involve shooting us," Logan replied warily.

"They will not be shooting you," the Insepton spoke without turning around. "Or otherwise causing you harm. They've agreed to take us on board."

"Why?" Solo asked, even as the lead Comout stepped back, making a gesture that he assumed meant for them to go by and enter. The others hung back, perhaps waiting for them to make a move, their bodies appearing as embedded shadows leaking out of the surrounding murk. "They don't seem to be the types to hire themselves out as a shuttling service."

"What do they want?" Logan asked suddenly, stepping forward. If there was menace in his stance the aliens couldn't read it and refused to slide aside. He eyed them all, tinged with suspicion. "Everyone involved in this wants something, they want to use this thing you've lost. These ones aren't any different . . . what is it?"

The Insepton stared at him for a second, its head tilted slightly. "Knowledge, of course," it said, hardly fazed. "Once recovered, we have no need to keep it to ourselves, once it's purpose has been served it need not be sequestered. There are records inside it of the past times, histories that have been lost or fractured in the times since. Like any others they wish to better know those times so they can better understand themselves." The alien shifted sideways, waving the two of them forward. "But come, their presence has put the port on alert and the authorities should be coming to investigate soon. We should not be here when they arrive." The alarms flared again in the distance, both wailing and warning, and if anyone was marching under its clamor their footsteps would be masked.

"We shouldn't be here at all," Logan muttered but strode forward, giving the Comout a terse nod as he went by. The alien's antenna twitched but it made no noise. The others began to close in as a semi-circle, forcing Solo forward even if he wasn't already hesitantly going.

"Easy, _easy_," he said, turning to face one of the Comouts as it came close to his back. It stared at him with unblinking eyes and made a noise not unlike chalk breaking. Addressing the Insepton, who had gone ahead and was almost in the ship, he said, "You never said how you got them to come here. There was nothing stopping them from letting some other poor suckers find the thing and stepping in to claim it once the shooting had finished."

"Old ties," was all the Insepton said at first. The three of them were in the airlock now, their voices echoing in curved lines in the sterile chamber, underlined with a hollow drone that might have been space shifting outside, curling in velvet waves. "Agreements. Ones that predate every history you know.

And then they were inside the ship. The ceiling was low enough that Solo had to duck down slightly, although Logan could stand up straight with no problem. It came across as both cramped and spacious, with no sharp corners but a certain expansiveness that moved along graceful lines. To the left was a narrow corridor that appeared to branch off into several other rooms. The subsonic hum of the engines seemed to be coming from both that direction and underneath them as well.

To the right was the front of the ship and what Solo assumed was the bridge. Nothing separated it from the rest of the craft, you could walk and find yourself suddenly surrounded by banks of piloting computers. The section was rounded, almost spherical and the whole of the wall was taken up by a wide window, carved into a strip. Right now the view only showed the serene expanse of space, with nothing to disturb the stars' calm reveries. A couple of Comouts were seated in front of the controls, checking readouts and readying switches while talking quietly to each other.

Solo and Logan stood near the doorway while all the Comouts behind them started to move decisively as soon as they entered the ship, splitting to go around both men. Immediately they scattered to different parts of the vessel, working on reflexes that Solo recognized from his time in space. Travel was travel, no matter who it was and what you traveled in. Do it long enough and there was a certain sameness to it, and some others were always automatic. There were a lot of ways to die out here and not many ways to avoid it.

The Insepton situated himself among it all, as the one static item in a constantly shifting world. Staring at Solo over its own back, it said, "The Comouts fought with my race in the wars, a very long time ago. The wars where the _forsgalai_ were lost and my planet destroyed. To atone for their inability to help us recover it, a proclamation was struck, a promise to aid us whenever they might be found." Behind them the door slid shut and sealed, while the humming under their feet increased in pitch. "That was what I invoked to get them here. The Comouts do not like to associate among other races, but they have some sense of honor, and history, for which I am grateful."

"Aren't we all?" Solo said, stepping further into the ship and taking a look around as much as his bent posture would allow. There were some chairs further up on the bridge but many of them were occupied and the ones that weren't seemed a bit too small for him.

There was a slight bump as the ship disengaged from the port and slowly the view began to drift sideways. Almost automatically Solo began cataloging the stars he saw, gauging directions and possible hyperspace routes. _You don't stop_, he told himself, although it wasn't a criticism.

"We're in space." Logan was staring about warily, looking like he needed to pace and that his path to pace would take him outside the spaceship entirely. Without waiting for the rest of them he walked over to the viewport, as close as he could get without getting in the way of the pilots. His eyes searched the field of stars, as if the curve of the glass might give away some hidden fold or bend, that might suggest that it all wasn't as far away as it seemed.

"Yeah," Solo said, unable to keep a grin off his face as he watched the view sliding upwards, the edge of the port clear on the right side. There was barely any sense of motion, it was almost as smooth as his own ship. _This is a nice piece of work_. For a moment he could forget why he was actually here.

Unfortunately the Insepton had to go and remind him. Strolling up to Solo with the lead Comout, he said, "As soon as we are clear of the port, the pilots are going to need the coordinates from you. The sooner we reach the _forsgalai_ and recover it, the sooner this can be over."

Solo eyed him with suspicion. "And what can convince me that you're not just going to dump us out the airlock when you've got what you need?"

The Comout drew closer and Solo found that it smelled of dust and damp metal. "There is warranted truth in your suspicions," it said, the voice a series of clickings that just happened to fall into sounds resembling recognizable words. "You've said, we've heard and we can tell you this, thus. We have the journey out and the journey back, the two parts? Can this be agreed?"

"Sure," Solo answered cautiously, trying to navigate the syntax, which seemed ready to spiral off into unpredictable directions at any second. "But how much of that am I going to be around for?"

In the meantime Logan had moved away from the viewscreen and was hovering at the edge of the small group, his presence hardly registering. "How come we understand this one?" Even when you knew he was there, his voice was a surprise.

"I hope I'm understanding him because he seems to be agreeing not to kill us."

"He can _try_ to kill us," Logan said and Solo could _hear_ the wolfish grin in his voice without actually seeing him. "But I don't think he'd find it so easy."

The Comout expelled a noise of marbles being swallowed. "Dealings with humans have imparted this in words." It crossed its arms over its chest and bowed slightly at the waist. "Par'ganthra as named, as carved and set. On my starslider we set, skiptraced outwards. Known, yes? To reanswer your inquestion, we travel for this and leave separate when it is done." The alien's antenna never stopped twitching and rotating as it talked and Solo wondered how many nuances he was losing by not being able to read the Comout's body language. "With no harm promised or inflicted, gone out or gone down. What we tryseek is not oursowned, so your lives or extinguishments are not our worries. You'll find no cause in our flicker."

Solo took a second to digest this. "I think he's saying that they're just along for the ride and he doesn't actually care about this damn thing."

Logan scratched at his cheek. "He's telling the truth." There was a certain surety to his statement but he gave no hint how he might know that. "And I got to say, it's about damn time someone was a realist about this."

"They're not going to hurt us but he's not exactly going to be heartbroken if something happens to us along the way that can't stop. At least that's what I got out of it." He glanced at Logan. "You think it would set relations back a step if I said the feeling was mutual?"

Logan's response was a snort. "Only because you said it before I did."

"The Comouts have no wish to involve themselves in this any more than they have to," the Insepton broke in, slithering dryly between the two camps. "That I can assure you of. They will take us there and assist in securing it, but they have no desire to keep you beyond that."

"Prisoninters? What need for that, entailed?" Par'ganthra rolled his shoulders in what might have been a shrug. "We go and reencover and slide out again, to our way. Simpleistic. You are here, as now. Shall we engage in its brevity and be better for it?"

"It's the closest I've heard to a plan all day." Solo clapped his hands together. "Let's get this over with, then, so we can all go back to pretending we never met. Sound good?" He flashed a broad grin and seemed ready to clap the Comout on the back.

"Very good," the Insepton said. "I'm most grateful for your cooperation in this."

"Hey, when I'm for a cause, I go all the way." The two of them were walking up to the bridge. Logan trailed behind, watching Solo intently but saying nothing.

"Most endeared." Par'ganthra gestured and one of the Comouts vacated his chair. "To be rigorous, I expected more combating in this." He sat down, the blunted hands moving swiftly and easily over the controls. The sleek bulk of the port was taking up most of the screen now, the various docks jutting out as fists clenched into the dark, trying to hold on to any slice held within the emptiness. The ship was still rising, in moments it be over the relative top of the port. "The coordinations, we were prepared for extractions in any means and disposal when all was enquired. The scattersprays required a testing." It looked over its shoulder at Solo, mandibles clacking open wide. "But the need was not. Pitys." It poked at him almost playfully, a certain tilt to its seated posture suggested that Solo had just been the subject of alien humor.

"Ha." The laugh was weak, but the Comout didn't seem to notice. It was more engaged in bringing up multiple displays, some bleeding into the view and seeming to be overlaid on space itself. Solo recognized them as local starcharts, the angles were slightly different and the distance markers not one he was used to, but he had studied enough to know the general positions.

"Here, this," Par'ganthra said, tapping a cubical schematic and sending it spinning, the stars inside exchanging placements as dancers exchanging partners. His pincer indicated a block of controls that looked vaguely like a keypad. "Enterings in thisness, and can be gone."

The Insepton came up next to him. "That will set the coordinates. Then we can go."

"That simple, hm?" Solo frowned, massaging his chin. He glanced back to see Logan staring at him, one eyebrow raised.

"It is, yes, but may not be familiar to you." The Insepton's fingers stroked the three-dimensional display, sending ripples undulating across the map of suspended lights. "I have some experience with these, if you tell me I can translate and enter it myself. The less possible errors the better."

"Right," Solo said, easing himself back so that he was standing behind Par'ganthra's chair. The Comout's head turned slightly but with the position of his eyes Solo wasn't sure how good his peripheral vision was.

"Please don't stall now. Not after all this." The alien's voice was the one unmoving spot on a fluid ship.

"Sorry," Solo said quickly, "I didn't mean to. I was just trying to think of the conversions. Winging it like this I want to make sure it's right . . ." he shook a hand in the air, biting his lip in thought. "See, my navigator uses mostly letters and there's just one that . . . _ah!_" He snapped his fingers, pointed at Logan. "Hey, pal, what's the second letter of the alphabet?"

Logan's eyes, which had been half-closed, suddenly grew wide. "What's that?" he said with some deliberateness. The leather in his jacket creaked as his shifted his stance.

"The letter," Solo said, emphasizing each word. "The second one. Remember what it stands for?"

Logan causally walked over to the center of the bridge, toward another bank of controls. The Comout there chanced a look over at him but merely made a stuttered noise and continued with its work. "Oh yeah," he said, letting his arms swing freely. "It's the most direct route."

"_Ex_actly." Solo bent over the keypad, fingers poised. "I'm glad we're in agreement over that. It's _so_ easy to get confused."

"Hey, that's what I'm here for." Logan gave Solo an almost imperceptible nod. "Pal."

"Anytime-" Solo said but even before the word was out, Par'ganthra's arm shot out, nearly knocking him aside. Solo's hand went to his laser but the Comout ignored him entirely, instead pointing at the viewscreen.

"_Look_ . . ." was as close as it might have sounded, the end of the word trailing off into syllables that represented the entrails of white noise.

The ship had cleared the top of the port and it was immediately apparent that they had company. Around Solo the bridge broke into a flurry of bustling aliens as they all began to talk very rapidly, racing from control bank to control bank and seeming to hit buttons and switches almost at random.

Solo, meanwhile, just stood up straight and stared.

Also gliding up over the roof of the port, like some kind of angular sunrise, was a gigantic starship. It was roughly triangular in shape, a kind of whitish grey in color, the front of it tapering to a point with a malicious sleekness, a tower rising up from the back end of it, floors stacked in layers. Its surface appeared entirely smooth from this distance but lights could be seen flickering on the face of it and Solo suspected those were bristling armaments and opening docking bays. Already specks were flitting around it like children working up the nerve to leave a parent. Even from this distance it took up the entire view from the Comout ship, stretching from one end to the other. Its grace while floating seemed utterly unearned and fraught with an inescapable menace.

"What the _hell_ is that?" Logan exclaimed, even as he dodge back as two Comouts ducked around him, shouting toward the rear portions of the ship. A small alarm began to buzz from somewhere, but Solo wasn't sure if that was just from his own ears as his brain tried to drown out what he was seeing.

His throat suddenly dry, Solo swallowed thickly so he might be able to speak. "That's what things hitting the fan look like. It's a Star Destroyer and it means the Empire is finally tired of screwing around." Other Comout ships were converging nearby, settling into a brief formation and then scattering along nexus lines. Even with the "tails" of the ships as stiffened rods they seemed impossibly fluid in flight, wavering as if seen though a veil of water.

At the console a light was frantically whirring. Par'ganthra stabbed at the button and a harsh voice emanated from the speaker. ". . . area has been declared a sealed zone by order of the Empire, all spacefaring lifeforms are to return to await instructions at the port for processing . . . we repeat, this area has been declared . . ."

"We're going to have to get the hell out of here," Solo shouted over the grating voice. The Insepton had backed away, wringing its hands together in a pensive fashion. "There's no way you guys are going to be able to fight that."

"We are unsubjected to their orderings," Par'ganthra said dismissively. He turned away from Solo to bark some orders at the rest of his crew who were already settling into an efficient locksteps of motions. "Reunmoved from their dictatures, our passagings are free and none of their concerns." He struck a switch on the console, speaking a bit louder and as a stream of notes in his own language.

"He just told them to ignore the Empire's demand but not to engage unless provoked." The Insepton was watching the window intently, the bulk of the Star Destroyer almost reflected in his tiny eyes. "We're maintaining our present course."

"I've got a bad feeling about that," Solo murmured. As he spoke, he saw a cluster of smaller ships break away from the main vessel and start to whirl their way toward the Comout vessels at a high velocity.

"Foolish," the Insepton said flatly. "The Comout ships are far more maneuverable, they're not going to be able to follow." The Empire's fighters drew closer and Solo could see it was the standard TIE design, a central ball to house the pilot with hexagonal "wings" on either side to stabilize the craft in its flight. Spinning, they whipped past the Comout ships, which immediately sidewhirled away, diving along and underneath the port.

". . . all outside craft are advised to immediately return to the port . . ." the Empire's voice continued. "This warning will not be repeated, all craft that are not in compliance will be subject to seizure or subsequent destruction. There will not be another warning."

"We need to jump and get clear of the system." Solo had to resist the urge to shove Par'ganthra out of his chair and take over the piloting controls himself. The vessel was moving, the view tilting as they started to take evasive action against any starfighters that might be coming near. Most of them were playing a dangerous game of tag with the other Comout ships, the Empire ships attempting to drive them toward the port. The Comout ships were strangely slippery though, corkscrewing or changing course almost at will. For all its speed and shifting, it was watching a quicksilver childrens' ballet darting into a crowd of lumbering Bantha. "It's not going to take long for someone to get tired of this and start shooting."

"They won't be able to hit them," the Insepton countered.

"That _really_ isn't going to stop them." He felt the ship suddenly lurch under his feet and his eyes caught just the fleetest second of an ionized haze streaking silently past the vessel's window. It was unclear who had fired but within seconds the sky was being crisscrossed with laser beams, reds and greens and blues leaving burnt afterimages on the vision. "Listen, the Empire didn't get as far as it has by sticking with conventional wisdom. They're brilliant and stupid all at once." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Logan standing right up against the window, one arm leaning on the wall so that his face was inches from it. The laser flashes played out over his expression, sinking deep into his eyes as if they might enter his brain and ricochet inside. "We have to get out of here first."

"Put the coordinates in and we'll jump to them," the Insepton said calmly.

Solo felt his pulse quicken. "Don't worry about that right now. Just leap to wherever and we can figure it out later." The Insepton merely stared at him, waiting for a different answer perhaps. "You want to lead them right to it? You think they can't track a hyperspace jump?" Out in space a series of lasers coming from different angles clipped one of the Comout ships, sending it tumbling end over end. Somehow it righted itself with a maneuver that almost bent the ship in two and lanced out with a volley of laser fire that resulted in two Empire fighters careening away, the hulls torn apart by rppling explosions.

"More delays merely work in the favor of other elements," the Insepton replied darkly. "Recovery is our primary goal here, the rest will sort itself out."

"Tell yourself that when we've got a squadron or two right on our asses!"

"Interarguers, enough," Par'ganthra snarled out, pivoting in his seat to glare at the two of them, his antennae downturned as angry eyebrows. "On this starslider, this word is and is mine alone. Our course, perdecided, we will eject shortly. Soonly." Its claws were dancing over the controls, the original schematic of the area vanishing, replaced with rapidly scrolling data and positions. "Their range determined, we will ervade and then tillarrive for the climaxtics of this event. Agreed, inter?" Neither of them responded to the speech, and after a moment Par'ganthra simply tilted his head and went back to his console. "Nil matters, the action is struck, withwithout your word."

"You're making a mistake . . ." For the first time the Insepton seemed agitated, its legs drumming uneasily along the metal floor. "Going off course will only-"

"Jump to your last origin point," Solo ordered, bending down so that his face was level with the Comout's, doing his best to talk over the Insepton. "It should be set in the systems still, just go back there." The Comout didn't act. "Come on, before they-"

"Its redirection cannot be accomplished," Par'ganthra said without taking his eyes off the massive starship. "The space is too denserting with wracked debros, it won't be clipped safe."

It took Solo a second to even begin to comprehend. "Wait, what did you mean, we can't jump now or we can't go back to where you were-_ah!_"

His sentence was cut off as the ship suddenly lurched violently, sending him crashing chest first into the console and then reeling backwards, narrowly dodging cracking his head on a chair on his way down. He landed painfully on his back, the wind knocked out of him briefly as the rest of the ship erupted into bangings and shoutings as the crew hung on to whatever was nearest. Or failed to, depending on their reflexes.

Wincing, Solo rolled onto his side to see the bridge blossoming into layers of flurried activity as the ship continued to rock from side to side, a keening scream beginning to be heard from the engines.

In the midst of it all he saw Logan, standing still and balanced where he had been against the window, looking like the one unmovable object left in the entire world. His face didn't even seem to acknowledge the chaos gradually unfolding around him. The ship bucked again and he adjusted his stance casually, unconsciously, as if a constantly tilting world was his natural state.

"This, ah, was not foreordained," Par'ganthra muttered, using the console to force himself to his feet while stabbing at some buttons. "Is there dalmage, please stream reports to this . . ." the rest of his words trailed off into undecipherable clickings as he seemed to remember his own language.

Solo was almost to his feet when the floor heaved once more, sending him back toward the floor. Before he hit, a hand caught his arm firmly in its grasp, lifting him easily to his feet. He found himself face to face with Logan, who had somehow crossed the room without stumbling.

"This is where you tell me that this is supposed to happen," Logan said, his voice calm but with a certain worry lingering in his eyes. _You probably can't heal decompression, can you?_ "Right?"

"Going by everyone's reactions, I don't think-" a shiver ran through the spacecraft again, throwing Solo into the unyielding Logan. Again he was struck by how solid the man was, like someone had poured metal into his insides. Logan's hand was at his shoulder to steady him and from that close Solo could see the tiny scars where the claws emerged. And suddenly he didn't want to stand that close.

Shoving away from the man he braced himself on the nearest empty chair, pivoting his body toward the main window. With his stance stabilized he finally had a chance to take in the view and his eyes widened slightly.

"I think I see what the problem is," he said, just as Logan turned as well.

The Star Destroyer was much closer than it was before, and seemingly growing larger by the second. It massive size easily filled up the window, the edges of it not even visible and the various turrets and battlements could begun to be made out. The guns were too far away to be seen but Solo had a feeling he knew which direction they were pointing in.

"Hey," he said, staggering toward Par'ganthra and nearly landing on the alien's back. "Hey, listen, I think we're caught in a tractor beam." Off to the wings of the view he could see several other Comouts ships also apparently caught in the same situation, the crafts wriggling like fish at the end of a taut line.

"That assesserment may prove to provide accurity." The Comout didn't seem too concerned, continuing to work quickly but calmly at the controls.

"What does that mean?" Logan asked, joining Solo on the alien's other side.

"It's, ah, its an energy beam that produces a kind of force field that . . ." the looming vessel kept distracting his train of thought. "It's going to drag us inside their ship, all right? How the hell do you not know what that is?"

"I don't really make a habit of this kind of thing," Logan replied icily.

"I think we can all agree that the inside of that ship is the last place we want to be." The Insepton nearly startled Solo, so quietly did he come up. He had almost forgotten about the alien, in all honesty. Surprisingly it didn't look any worse for wear, maybe because it was closer to the floor. Still, it was impressive that nobody had managed to fall on it. "A hyperspace jump is out of the question now."

"It would tear the ship apart," Solo explained, for Logan's benefit. The man only nodded, the revelation not seeming to surprise him. "But we're not too close yet, maybe the engines at full power can tear away from the beam . . ."

"It's attempt is forlonged," the Comout said. It turned slightly and shouted a skittered command to members of the crew on the other end of the bridge. One squeaked and hit some more buttons. A second later the engines reached a higher pitch. "But the tractations are dependant on totality of massings. An overloaded overwhelming may product a severing."

The metal around them creaked violently as the ship twisted yet again. The Insepton trotted over to another console, its eyes scanning the readouts. "Aha, clever," it said. Even with their situation, there was an odd cheer to its voice. "The ships that remain are attempting to insinuate themselves into the beam, so that it won't be able to pull all of them at once. That may weaken it enough so that we can break free . . ."

"That's not going to be enough mass," Solo shot back. "Look at the _size_ of that thing, you'd have to bounce of a planet or . . ." He stopped speaking for a second, his eyes staring into the distance. "Or . . . _wait_."

He erupted into motion, sliding around the side of the Comout and standing so that his back was to the window. "Listen, all right, _listen_ . . ." The angle of the Star Destroyer's tip was a dagger pointed right at his head. "Can you pull the ship to the side? Tell everyone that can get into the beam to drift sideways?" He staggered a bit as the spacecraft shuddered, putting his arms out to maintain his balance, his back thumping against the window.

"Your point arrives elusively."

"Just _tell_ them, all right? I think . . ." he turned to stare out the window, looking down. "Yeah, we're almost in line and they probably aren't realizing it but . . ." seeing that everyone was staring at him, he said, "You guys, the _port_! It's right below us, if the ships can get the beam in line with it, the damn thing might try to drag it with us."

"It would cause too much strain and the projector would burn out," the Insepton mused. "It's workable."

"If it does drag the port though, wouldn't it just crash into us, then?" Logan pointed out.

Solo gave him a look. "Aren't we a ray of sunshine? No wonder why you travel alone." Turning back to Par'ganthra he said, "No, tell everyone to start pulling toward the port. It's a risk worth taking."

"Allsready in transit." The ship's structure groaned as if awakening from a restless sleep. Nothing was between them and the Star Destroyer and it still dominated the view head. Still, Solo thought he detected a slackening of their pace toward the giant ship, unless his eyes were playing tricks on him.

"And if this doesn't work?" Logan tore his gaze away from the slow silent drama outside to glance at Solo. "What, then?"

Solo tapped his laser. "Then we've got a hell of a fight on our hands. You might get your wish yet today."

Logan only snorted and turned back to the window, although the ghost of a smile might have appeared in his pale reflection. His fingers curled against the glass, tapping quietly.

Meanwhile the Insepton was leaning up against the console, conferring with Par'ganthra. "If you divert more power from here to the engines . . ." The lighting inside the ship, already dim, darkened even further. "Yes, we're drifting a few degrees now, tell everyone to keep pulling."

"Power is already maxated," the Comout said, sounding a bit miffed. "But it can be tried to excrease into limitations." He spoke into the console, pressing at some buttons.

Logan had turned toward the back of the ship, his face expressing curiosity. "It sounds like it but is that the engines . . ." He might have been talking to himself.

Par'ganthra spoke again, the edges of his voice rising in what might have been a question. No response seemed to be coming from that portion of the ship.

"No, it's out of synch with the engines, it's not-"

There was a cluttered scream from the rear of the ship. Everyone immediately turned, the frantic motion at the bridge suddenly halting. The sound staggered on for a few seconds before a mad scrabbling and scratching was heard.

_I don't have a good feeling about this_, Solo thought.

A textured shadow emerged from the back corridor, a Comout flailing forward. It babbled something in a compressed speech before jerking spasmodically and slumping to the floor. A slickness gradually started to spread from under where it had fallen and even across the room Solo could see the massive wound carved into its chest, an elongated hole that started in the center and worked its way outward. Part of its arm was missing as well.

"Everyone get back!" Logan shouted, even as he started to move forward. "Now!"

"And what exactly," a new voice said, draped in coiled reverb, "is that going to do?" A man detached itself from the shadows that hadn't been there a moment before, the glow of two slitted eyes staring back at them. A cape whispered against the floor as the bridge was drenched in a sickly green light.

From behind his sword, the Dark Rider regarded them. "Other than make this much easier than it already is?"


	3. What's Important

Full title: _What's Important Is That We're All Together_

At some point it occured to me that I should apologize for the Comout dialogue, but who says aliens should speak normal English? Besides, if you think it's hard to read imagine how much fun it was to write. This is also the section where I started making up stuff about Solo's early life, so if you're allergic to that you may want to skip this section. But you'll miss exciting spaceship action! Unless you hate that too. In which case . . . boy, I've got nothin'.

* * *

The bridge hovered in stillness for just a second before one of the Comouts brought his laser up and fired. The Dark Rider didn't move, but somehow the blade of his sword managed to get in the way of the shot. With a pinched scream the beam ricocheted off the sword, veering unerringly into the chest of another Comout on the other side of the bridge. There was the sound of a sizzled punch and the alien slammed into the nearest wall, slumping to the floor and leaving a thick smear in its wake.

"Nobody else fire!" Solo ordered, although his own laser was out and pointed at the Dark Rider. It was just reflex, all his life he had known only two ways to solve a problem, get out of its way and when that didn't work, shoot your way out of it. And he couldn't do either of those here.

"Or we could vollanely all in sameness," Par'ganthra suggested with an idle calm.

"No, no." Solo tasted salty perspiration on his upper lip. "We, we've got this. Stick to the course, get us out of this. We'll take care of the rest."

"Oh, will you?" Even under the mask, the sneer was apparent. The sword wavered in the space between Logan and the Dark Rider, a nightmare becoming solid. It caused all the shadows in the room to elongate and stretch in different directions, spirits screaming to be let out of their bodies.

Logan didn't take his eyes off the sword's wielder. "You rely on that sticker a lot?" His stance was constantly adjusted and perfectly poised. "Do that, seems to me you're hiding something. Accommodating for a weakness."

"Perhaps the blade is simply an extension," the Dark Rider mused, feinting with the weapon. Logan took one step to the side, let it go past him. He could almost _hear_ the air splitting in two in its wake.

"How close are we to getting out of the beam?" Solo whispered.

The Insepton was tinkering with the controls. "I'm detecting an energy surge on their end, it's starting to have an effect. But they might start adjusting their position as well . . ."

"Keep on it." Solo watched Logan dodge again, moving with a ease that belied his stocky mass.

"Getting my measure?" the Dark Rider asked, swinging the sword in a loose circle before drilling forward, the tip darting directly for Logan's stomach.

"Got that already, bub." Logan ducked low to present a smaller target, then launched himself at the Dark Rider, knocking his arm aside so that the sword went wide, the blade tracing a thin line in the wall. "You're no different than any one else who thinks they're a big man 'cause they got a weapon. It doesn't make you smarter." He pressed his knuckles into the Dark Rider's wrist and suddenly there was a quiet _snikt_. The Dark Rider jerked as the claws emerged from the other side of his arm, but he made no other sound. His eyes seemed to gleam that much harder. "It doesn't make you better."

"We're making progress, but Solo," the Insepton said, "it's not going to put us in the clear."

"I _know_ that," Solo shot back, banging his hand on the console. Par'ganthra was talking rapidly to one of his officers, the two of them constantly glancing at the conflict going on across the room. "But I'd rather have one problem to solve than two, all right?"

The Insepton merely made an offhand clicking noise and continued monitoring.

"Better?" the Dark Rider replied to Logan, his voice rolling over the word like it was something base. He hadn't let go of the sword but his arm impaled on his Logan's outstretched claws made it difficult to bring it any closer. Instead he leaned nearer to Logan. "Those like you who start from a low position might strive to be _better_. A forlorn hope for a pinnacle you'll never reach." He shifted his weight, trying to drag Logan along his pivoting. But the other man stood firm, although unable to get a clear shot at the Dark Rider, whose body seemed to alternate between a wispy evasiveness and an all too present solidity.

Suddenly the Dark Rider emitted a guttural laugh and pulled Logan right up to his chest. His other hand, the one that ended in a fork, hit him over the shoulder, only succeeding in knocking him down an inch.

"For us, we merely seek to be more . . . effective."

The tips of the fork blazed and a double beam shot out of it, lancing across the room and striking the Comout nearest to Par'ganthra, catching him in the center of the forehead. The window was immediately drenched with blood sprayed a cryptic pattern as the laser continued through the window, dispersing out into space as lighted shards, crystals disintegrating into the dark fabric. Solo reflexively held his breath but the window remained intact somehow. Through the splatter the Star Destroyer could still be seen, a horizon looming closer with every second.

"Down!" He was already leading the way, although none of the other Comouts seemed to be doing it on his order, if they were finding cover at all. Par'ganthra stood still, in a strange state of shock, looking at the blood of his shipmate spotting his hands and arms. Now at the level of the Insepton, Solo hissed, "He's picking us off one by one, can't you turn the ship upside down or something? We need some kind of advantage."

"You're more than welcome to try this yourself," came the reply, the alien sounding a bit tense. "I thought humans enjoyed valiant last stands. You write enough terrible songs about them."

"Tricks, that's all you got," Logan snarled back, pressing the Dark Rider against the wall. But somehow the other being twisted, forcing Logan's arm up and then used the opening to kick him solidly in the ribs. Not hurt but thrown off balance, the motion caused the two of them to separate, the claws ripping a gash right through the Dark Rider's forearm. It braced itself against the wall, holding its weapon loosely in the wounded arm. The light painted the walls as something diseased, an infection that seeped deeper into the ship the longer the source lingered.

"What harkenings does it bespire?" Par'ganthra asked, the Comout's whisper coming as the noise of a motor sputtering out. "Its positionment on the slideship is . . . what? Whyell?"

"Yeah, you never explained what the hell they want with this . . . this wonderful missing piece of _crap_ that everyone keeps dying over." Solo was staring at the dead body of the Comout nearby, its eyes appearing to stare right at him from the ruins of its face. In life they never blinked or focused and yet when dead so much was lost. "Can you tell me that?" He was unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. This damn universe, it just gave you more room to try and kill each other, in more creative ways.

"That sword, it's supposed to cut through anything?" Logan asked, his stance weaving.

"Through all bonds," the Dark Rider replied with a malicious triumph. "All connections and the links between." He took a step closer, his arm dangling limply but dangerously. "I have severed friendships, caused lovers to see each other only in terms of their dislike, forced families to become strangers. Sometimes I even kill them afterwards." It raised the sword, staring at Logan past his own shattered armor. The broken pieces revealed nothing but a solid darkness. "What can I cut from you, that you cannot afford to lose?"

"They want . . ." the Insepton's mouth worked for a few seconds with no sound, ". . . all the lights to go out. I can explain it no other way. Stab out all the brightness, to smother and choke everything that exists in what they are."

"And this thing that you lost . . . it can help with that?" This was getting beyond him, he was used to smugglers and trade routes and bypassing angry officials, dodging asteroid belts and fights in bars. And yet, staring at the Dark Rider, what the Insepton said took on new resonance. It might be true, in this endlessly expanding world. That was the part that scared him sometimes, that he never wanted to admit to himself. Amidst all the squalor and wonder and the mundane, everything he heard might be true. He wasn't ready for that. "How?"

"I don't know," the Insepton admitted. "But they seem to think it will, perhaps they suspect some knowledge locked inside it or . . ." It halted, tapping rapidly at the console.

"You can try," Logan said, his voice calm only on the surface, bristling with a simmering readiness underneath. "You sure as hell can _try_."

"What? What is it?" He could see the other Comouts starting to edge around the bridge, perhaps hoping to flank the Dark Rider and get a clear shot. Solo wanted to tell them that wasn't a good idea but he would be shooting at a star shower and telling it to stop. In the end, neither of them would understand the other.

"An energy surge, but I can't tell the source . . ." the Insepton muttered, barely paying attention to Solo. Reaching behind, he tapped Par'ganthra. "What does this mean? Is it another tractor beam or . . ."

Logan grinned with all the mirth of shattered glass. "But what I got attached to me . . ." he closed his fists tightly and the claws slid out, as fast as rockets and lethal as a love kept quiet, ". . . you ain't breaking."

"Nos," Par'ganthra said, roused into motion finally. "From elseways and sidewhen, a spike not angled to us. This does not, nos . . ." the Comout banged at the controls with a very human sense of frustration. "All sense has fleeted."

"That we shall see," the Dark Rider said. He gave a mocking bow, hooking it with his forked hand to add a flourish. "But you shall have to pardon me, for our battle seems to have caught the attention of all."

"Wait, it's spiking further, it's gone off your _scale_ . . ."

"And I thought they might need a distraction from this grim affair."

A humming pierced the ship with a depth that went right into the center of the bones. Everyone froze as the air seemed to waver weakly, wobbling as if being shaken violently.

"Oh, no." The Insepton sounded very small.

"What, what _is_-"

Black shafts of energy plunged down from the ceiling, originating from a place that extended far above the ship itself. One came down near Solo and it hurt to even stare at it, the shape of becoming flat and rounded at the same time.

"So I invited others," the Dark Rider finished with a harsh laugh. "I trust I did not oversteps my bounds as a guest."

Glowing eyeslits began to appear inside the columns, both as warning and promise. Solo felt a chill even though none of it was touching him.

"They took advantage of the tractor beam holding us steady to get a teleport lock on the ship," the Insepton said, already drawing its stubby laser. "I don't believe I need to tell you that this is not a good thing."

"No kidding," Solo muttered. He was doing his best to keep track of the changing situation but every time he started to adjust the storm would shift and throw him in another direction.

Without warning the columns lifted, retracting back into the ceiling and past. Where each one had been stood a Dark Rider and even though he had been expecting that, Solo felt his pulse quicken.

"Don't let them go for their swords!" he shouted, just as the nearest to him began to reach for the scabbard. He launched himself at it, using one hand to pin its arm against its body, driving it back toward the opposite wall. Behind him he heard a laser go off, the pitch of it an oddly futile scream in the growing din. Comouts were scrambling about as the Dark Riders started to move.

His Dark Rider struggled, but Solo used his momentum to slam it up against the wall. The apparent strength underneath the armor was unnatural but Solo couldn't feel muscles or bone through it. The glowing eyes bored into him, glimmering with both hatred and unswerving purpose. It would not yield and it would not stop. That much was clear. He could feel its arm fighting, the hand wrapping around the hilt of the sword. It was all he could do to keep the formed hand down, he didn't need to get shot as well.

Across the room, Logan laughed. "You think this even the odds?"

"No, but it makes this vastly more interesting."

Logan shrugged. "Whatever you want to tell yourself, bub."

Then, with his claws leading the way, he flung himself at the Dark Rider. The two of them collided, its sword going wide and carving a scar in the wall, a relentless signature. Logan's push carried them both deeper into the corridor, out of sight from the rest.

"Ah, you son of a . . ." Solo snarled through gritted teeth, doing his best to keep his opponent pinned. Out of the corner of his eye he saw and somehow _felt_ the room begin to light up in neon drenched colors, the conflicting hums of the weapons vibrating at frequencies that worked at cross-purposes to his brain. The world was turning garish, hallucinogenic paints splattered over the walls, the floor, the mind. "Why are you doing this? Why is this so important?"

The Insepton's gun went off nearby, even as the alien himself made no sound. A body hit the floor but there was no telling who it belonged to. Par'ganthra was shouting out orders that sounded like a combination of languages but the words were indecipherable to him.

"Because every advantage must be taken and pursued," it told him, all too calmly. "You're too focused on your own survival to understand that. It's the eventual victory that matters most." There was a slitted glow emerging as the sword began to separate from its sheathe.

"You're not going to win here," Solo retorted, trying not to listen to his own panting speech and wishing that he sounded just a little more convinced. "Whatever you want, you're not going to get it."

"That's because you insist on perceiving matters in the short-"

"Oh, shut up," Solo said wearily, letting go of the forked arm just long enough to reach for his own laser again. In a motion that frightened him in how practiced it felt, he brought the barrel right up against the Dark Rider's face and fired before he could think about it otherwise. The helmet cracked right down the center and with a stuttering flicker the lights of the eyes went out. There was a smell that reminded him of the instant just before you realized you were never going to see a friend again, when there was nothing you could do about it. The notion startled him and he let the body go abruptly. It hit the floor in a pile, lifeless and empty.

"Scramble for formuations!" The Comout's voice was ragged and all too near. "Whatnever the occurrs keep the intregrality intact-"

"I'm coming," Solo said, loud enough so that only he might hear it. He turned around while bracing himself against the wall, telling himself that he needed to move faster, to be quicker but he'd been running for so long now and it was getting harder, heavier. "Hang in there a second, pal, I'm-"

His foot kicked against a solid object. Or it rolled into him. He'd never be able to remember which.

Not far away he saw a body that was dressed as Par'ganthra but much shorter stagger a few elusive steps before collapsing. A Dark Rider stood over it, the blade held parallel to the floor, the too brilliant azure of it threatening to drown them in its own ocean. The pieces of his laser were littered across the floor, cut neatly into fragments. In a narrowed tunnel Solo saw the body again and realized, even as he tried not to, that the body wasn't shorter. It was missing something. A vital piece. It was-

He glanced down at his foot and immediately wished he hadn't.

The Dark Rider suddenly turned to stare directly at him. Solo brought his laser up but the motion was so slow, too slow, the distance was broadening by the second and he would have no time there was no time just the space _where he would not be able to move fast enough-_

A burst of impacted light glittered on the Dark Rider, sending him spinning backwards. Two more followed, one in the chest and one in the shoulder, forcing it to arch its back before tumbling to the floor. Out of nowhere a rod-like shape dove forward, leaping onto a chair and firing straight down.

"We can't forget," the Insepton said, as if responding to some other conversation. It hopped off the chair and headed back toward the console, muttering to itself. Solo's vision decided to go widescreen at that moment and he was finally able to take in the entire bridge. It was littered with bodies, both Comout and Dark Rider, a fact that he refused to let sink into his brain, drinking in the scene as if through another's eyes. Caught in a tableau, three Comouts were attempting to fend off two Dark Riders, the five of them trapped in a complicated dance that could only end in a way that none of them were prepared to concede. A step, a twist, a feint. Two of the swords were green, the other was red and the colors were blending together like razorcuts in the air.

One blade went across, so casual and one Comout screamed, falling back at it clutched at the wrecked remnants of its arm. One of the others took the advantage and fired at it from behind a chair. It dodged the first somehow, the blade already streaking toward the chair. But the second shot caught it directly in the neck, sending the head flopping back. The blade kept going however, spearing through the chair without a pause and catching the Comout in a similar place.

The wounded alien scrambled for the downed laser, diving up to fire at the remaining Dark Rider. Pieces of its crewmates were scattered all about the bridge and the floor had gone stained with blood. Solo couldn't even tell how many Dark Riders had been on board or how many might still be lurking about. This fight had just started and had always been here, with them, with others, constantly unfolding throughout the universe, just with different faces.

The laser shot went wide, and the second was blocked by the sword. The Dark Rider reached out and simply _touched_ the Comout with the sword, causing the rest of his arm to fall off. It didn't even pause before reversing the strike and passing the weapon through the upper part of his torso and that was all.

"We need to get out of the beam before they realize they're losing and send in more," the Insepton said, fiddling the controls. From the back of the ship came violent crashings and heavy objects thudding against metal. There was a glow emitted from that section like an alien sunrise.

"They're losing?"

The Insepton shot him a look. "We're still here, are we not? Now, see if you can assist me in figuring this out and then we can-"

There was a burst of light from the bottom corner of the window, so bright that he needed to look away but so fast that no time existed to perform the action. The ship rocked a little bit, space converted to waves.

"Another energy surge . . . no, it had nothing to do with our vessel, it . . ." Solo was trying to pay attention to the Insepton and the unfolding battle. He kept trying to train his laser on the Dark Rider in the hopes he might be able to peg it but neither of the opponents were standing still. The Dark Rider was too elusive, twisting and turning sideways too rapidly for the eye to properly target it, flowing in liquid as if poured from moment to moment. "But it's nearby, what is . . ."

Then Solo saw movement from the bottom edge of the window. "Look," was all he said in a deadened voice, recognizing it instantly. It was a sight he had witnessed too many times.

Drifting past them was the rounded front end of a Comout ship, the rear of it shattered and trailing bits of wreckage. Silhouettes could be seen inside of it still but whether they were moving or not Solo didn't want to explore further. A moment later power that must have existed inside the bridge went out plunging the interior of the damaged craft into darkness.

A TIE fighter shot by, banking as if checking on the ship and then whirling to dive away out of view. More wreckage fanned up past them, tumbling end over end in infinite slowness, swimming toward a destination that they'd never reach and possibly didn't exist.

"They've figured out what we were attempting," the Insepton explained. His voice was even and unconcerned, he could have been describing a recent holoflick. "And now they're destroying the other ships."

"Get on there and order them to break out then," Solo insisted, watching as the Comout attempted to tackle the lone Dark Rider, the two of them staggering backwards. It tried to stab him in the back but the alien, surprisingly lithe, slipped away and fired a volley of shots at it. "Tell them the plan is changed."

"They are all that is keeping us from being pulled into the Empire ship." The Insepton's voice was steady.

Solo just stared at the alien. "Have you gone mad? They're all going to die."

"Perhaps," came the reply. "But we will not and right now that is my primary concern. It should be your primary concern as well. Unless you've acquired a death wish some time in the last few hours."

The Comout lunged at the Dark Rider again but this time it brought its forked hand up. There was a bright flash as it fired, but the point-blank shot didn't kill the Comout, only sent him fumbling backwards.

"We can figure out another plan!" A clear shot failed to present itself. _Even if I hit them both, I'll be alive at least. _The laser wavered. What was wrong? _No, you have a shot finally, take the shot, take the-_

More pieces of the ships drifted by, the debris coming in thicker waves. Solo thought he saw bodies going by in graceful stillness, asleep and cushioned in the fabric.

"We have a perfectly fine plan. But if you have another one, then by all means, the com is all yours. For a man of your resourcefulness, overcoming the language barrier should not be difficult."

The Dark Rider followed too swiftly, however, gliding as a poured stain spreading. The sword went up even as the Comout raised a hand to block it, hopeful and futile.

"You _bastard_," Solo snarled, although he wasn't sure who the comment was directly at.

"Indeed," the Insepton noted matter-of-factly. "But if you're quite finished . . ."

And the blade went down, soundlessly, with nothing to impede it.

The Dark Rider turned to face them, the light of its sword bleeding all over them.

". . . I believe you have a more immediate problem."

"I am really starting to dislike you-" Solo said, but the last of his statement was drowned out by a deafening howl that came from the rear of the vessel, a caterwaul that raced toward them as some grim meteor.

The Insepton barely glanced up. "Oh. Would you believe I almost forgot about him completely?"

As he said that, a spiked ball of rage catapulted itself from the back corridor, shouting as if trying to get the stars to look away in their orbits. Solo felt his spine freeze at the sound, watched the world lock itself into a stuttering slow motion as the man crossed the room in a fashion that suggested all obstacles were merely theoretical. There was a sharpness in him, sprouting from him, that sliced a path ahead, one that even friction could not withstand.

The Dark Rider was in the process of turning toward the noise when Logan slammed into him, driving both sets of claws into his chest. The Dark Rider jerked but did not immediately fall, even as he attempted to bring his sword to bear. His face contorted into a snarl that went beyond bestial and into primordial, Logan twisted his hands, causing his opponent to spasm and suddenly go limp.

Logan let him slide off his claws, breathing heavily. Solo didn't even want to approach him, there was a certain madness in his eyes that kept him away. His gaze swept the ship, searching and probing, and Solo wondered if he even recognized them. If Logan tried to kill them, if he had truly snapped, he wasn't sure what he would do. Could the man even be killed?

His lips moved again, and the same growl came out, longer and more sustained. He was staring at the ship, striding in small steps, looking among bodies for a prey that had already escaped.

Against his better judgment he ventured forward. For some reason, he felt he had to try. "Hey, Logan, hey . . . are you-"

Logan dropped to his knees on the deck, simultaneously reaching into his torn pocket. As he did the scream fragmented and the shards began to rearrange themselves into a word.

"_Haaaaaaaaa-_"

It hit him then what Logan was trying to say, a realization that struck him right in the center, the first time he had seen the flashes in the sky and marveled at them, at their chaotic brilliance, and the misted, drifting rain that had followed, the specks of it as light as feathers.

"_aaaooooowwwwwwwwww-_"

Marveled, until the moment someone told him what the lights meant and what the rain was, or had once been. _That was my brother_, Ganther had said, in his slow drawl and with a smudge prominent on his forehead still. _He hopped upgrav and belongs to the air now_.

The first chunk of wreckage to fall had a sooty handprint on it and that's when the question was asked. The same question Logan had now.

"_How?_" His claws now retracted, he had grabbed a fallen Comout, lifting the body half off the floor. There was an object in his other hand now, although Solo couldn't see what it was.

"Easy, Logan, _easy_," Solo said, going down in a crouch, throwing his arms out as soon as the smoldering gaze found him. "Whoa, hey, I'm on your side, pal. Just . . . just calm down for a second."

"Make him _tell _me." Underneath the grating words, there was a certain plea hidden. The object was clutched so tightly in his hands was a chain of sorts, the beads of it dangling from in between his fingers.

It took Solo a moment to understand what the other man meant. "He's dead. They're all dead."

"No, _no_," Logan insisted. "This one isn't, I can tell, he's not_ dead_." He shifted the Comout's body so that he was more propped up against a nearby chair.

"Listen, he is, he's . . ." and that's when Solo saw the Comout stir.

The head turned slightly at the sound of Logan's voice, the mandibles clicking quietly. A stream of choked and stuttered phrases emerged from that beak. Even so the alien was clearly weak, a too circular wound carved into his stomach, the edges of it clean but oozing readily.

Logan leaned closer, putting his ear nearer to the Comout's. "He's trying to talk, but I don't what he's . . . _dammit_." His free hand banged against the floor, denting it as if the metal itself was trying to stay away from him. Arcing his voice overhead, he shouted to the Insepton. "You know their language, get the hell over here!"

The Insepton glanced over with some element of dismissal in his body language. "I'd rather not take precious time away from saving our lives, if that is quite okay with you-"

"Get over here. Now." He never raised his voice, the words were almost squeezed out of him. For a second it seemed like all the anger had left his body. But it hadn't. And that was the most frightening part.

For a moment the Insepton didn't speak. It stared at Logan, as if studying him for the first time. "Very well," it said, finally, flatly, before skittering over.

The Comout was still chattering softly when the Insepton reached them. It listened for a few seconds then said, "He says he's dying. He suspects it won't be much longer." Another pause. "He'd like to be alone when it happens."

"I'm sorry." Hearing Logan, Solo was surprised by how sincere it was. The iron came back into his voice. "But I have to know . . . ask him . . ." he lifted his hand and opened it, letting the object inside dangle loosely. "Ask him where they got _this_." It was a loose chain of beads, as Solo had first expected, alternating black and grey and forming a circle. Another string of beads came off that circle, the end of it sporting what looked to be a silver cross of some kind. Solo couldn't be sure but he thought he saw a person on the cross.

The Insepton regarded the beads without expression, then carefully spit out a series of phrases. This seemed to rouse the Comout slightly and it tilted its head to better see the object in question. It rasped out some words.

"They found it," the Insepton reported. "In space." The Comout said a few more words. "Just floating, it was part of a cloud of wreckage."

Logan drew in a sharp breath. "What kind of wreckage?"

The Insepton's eyestalks bobbed. "What kind of question is that . . ."

"Just _ask_ it!" Logan snarled. His face was creased by a kind of quiet, penned-in sorrow, the type you only saw when the person didn't think you were staring at them properly.

Another burst of fractured syllables, and a response. "It was a starship, a couple of them. There must have been some kind of battle, but the debris hadn't scattered, so it have been . . . recent. One destroyed the other, or they self-destructed, there was no way to tell."

Logan clutched the beads tighter, his knuckles going white. Solo thought his claws might burst through his skin purely from the pressure. "Were there any bodies?" He spoke carefully, like razors were resting on his tongue.

The Comout didn't answer immediately, and Solo thought he might have died. But then his antenna twitched and he spoke again, haltingly.

"Yes. Some. But they didn't go near, they left them-"

"_Left_ them?" Logan said harshly, looking like he might grab either one of the aliens and shake them. "They just left the bodies floating out there in space, what the hell kind of people are you-"

"Logan, _Logan,_" Solo shouted, putting a hand on the man's arm. The other man shifted his gaze slowly to stare at Solo and made him wish he hadn't spoken. "It . . . it's a custom, they were only doing . . ." The gaze didn't relent. Solo swallowed thickly and tried to continue. "Spacers don't die on the ground, they try not to . . ." _they try not to die at all, really_, ". . . and if they die in space you don't bring them back landward to rot in a hole and never move again, you leave them where they are, to eternally travel. It's a sign of respect." There was a muscle working rapidly in Logan's face, but he said nothing.

With a sudden bravery he didn't expect, Solo said, "Is it your friends? Was it them?"

Logan's eyes went distant, into areas that Solo couldn't reach. With a sharp breath, he brought himself back. "These . . . they're Kurt's. He used to pray over them, every time we were riding on the 'Bird, he'd sit there with them, just quiet, just praying." He rubbed his fingers together, creating a clacking noise. "He had them the last time I saw him, I walked past his room and he had them. I stood there, I listened for a minute but . . . it was too private, what he had." He looped it around both hands, gently tugging at the chain. "I couldn't relate, he used to tell me all the time that I needed to have faith. But faith's when you believe in something that ain't yourself. I wish I could. All I've ever got was me, there's nothing else." He drew his lips together tightly. "He wouldn't have let it go unless he had no choice. Though maybe . . . whose ship was it?"

The Comout was almost inaudible this time, the Insepton was forced to lean in close. "Imperial Shi'ar," he said finally. "They were able to tell that much."

Logan closed his eyes briefly, his breath rattling in his chest. Gathering up the beads almost reverently, he tucked them into an inner pocket.

Solo didn't know why he spoke. "Listen, are you . . ."

"He'll get them back," Logan said, without looking at anyone. And he said nothing else.

For a few seconds the only sound in the ship was the Comout's quiet stream of speech. His body had relaxed slightly and was starting to slide down from where he had been propped up. His wound had stopped oozing and was now just a hole.

"What is he saying?" Solo asked.

The Insepton translated. "He says it's growing darker. The world is falling into the tunnels, that's where he was born, there are shards of darkness on all sides and he's back in the coiled warrens. Before he had eyes, he would feel the textures of the stone and know exactly where he was." The Insepton stopped and looked shaken. "The weight is all around and he knows it, he can feel it on all sides, it's all above him and he's going down and deeper. The first he knew of his mate was the voice, and the light didn't matter. From the first note of their intertwining, they were drawn. Where are they now? Gone ahead, he can hear them in vaster echoes."

"Stop," Logan might have whispered, nails scraping against the floor.

"He can't see, but he knows where he is. The familiarity of its roughness. He can feel it. He knows exactly where this tunnel leads, he's always known. He can follow it right down to-"

"_Stop_." Logan's eyes had gone wide, startled at his own insistence. "That's enough," he said, in a whisper. "Just let it go. Let him go." Folding his hands together, he looked down and said, "You've done enough, go on, now."

"He doesn't know what you said. Do you want me to-"

"It doesn't matter." Logan sniffed, rocked back onto his heels, his hands on his knees. "He's dead."

And the Comout had indeed fallen silent. The rest of them followed suit and for Solo it felt like time had stopped up there on the bridge. What was outside hung suspended as dewdrop jewels, a scene tacked on merely to add atmosphere. The vessel was still shuddering underfoot, the only reminder that the battle was still waging ferociously beyond them. It was just the three of them now, alone in a separated universe. The violence of the past minutes had abated and the bridge felt strangely serene, the bodies lying there as if gently placed. The dark eyes of the Comouts staring into nothing, their limbs folded and passive, pausing for rest until the need arose again. Even the Dark Riders achieved an odd peace in death, the one nearest them seemed to be staring right at him, the still glowing eyes asking a question he had no real answer to. It was impossible to-

_Wait_.

The eyes were still

_The helmet cracked right down the center_

"Guys," Solo said slowly, too slowly, trying to scramble to his feet. "Guys, it's-"

_the center and with a stuttering flicker_

"Solo, what now?" the Insepton said, his voice distorted as if coming from some distance down deeptime.

"He's still, guys . . ." Words were nothing, thoughts were not speed, nothing mattered except the motion. And he had none.

_stuttering flicker the lights of the eyes went out_

"He's not," someone had made his laser weigh a ton and that wasn't possible, it just wasn't possible-

_the lights of the eyes went out_

And then the not-body twitched.

_went out_

Solo hauled himself to his feet against all tendrils of gravity.

_They're not out_.

"He's still alive!" The words were flattened and too late, too late, _too late_.

The Dark Rider was on its feet as if poured upwards, its cape sweeping back and sweeping away. It already had the sword in its hand, throwing frightened and cowering shadows up against the far wall. In its way it was beautiful, poised on that sudden moment and promising them an elegant death without words. A demise with a certain purity, quick and sharp and final.

Solo fired, as fast as the signal sent from one star to another, their playful giggles strung out as sinuous ropes along the greater depths. The world snapped back into motion with enough of a wrench that it made his jaw ache, time clattering along as stones gaining momentum along a new slope. In a second matters would move too quickly and he'd never be able to keep up. So he shot and he fired and two things happened right away.

The first was the Dark Rider stepping aside from the laser, the way one brushed away aid that wasn't required.

The second was the realization that Logan was already moving, and had been doing so for ages. If he had ever stopped.

He was outracing his own shadow, the thin wisp of himself that trailed along as if dragged, too tired to even protest anymore. The gap between he and the Dark Rider was not so much a gap as a step and he crossed that step with his whole body moving as one. If it were possible he might have run alongside Solo's laser beam, if only to laugh harshly and mocking at how temporary it was, that it would strike an obstacle and disperse while he could keep moving, keep running for forever. Nothing could stop him. Sharpened edges erased all notions of friction. This was true. In all the world, Solo believed this was true, it was a fact.

So the Dark Rider didn't.

Already wounded, it never said a word. It simply dropped its sword and grabbed at Logan's forearm with his free hand, turning and tugging at his momentum so that he came even more inexorably forward, perhaps even faster now.

And with a motion so smooth that it fostered its own kind of simple grace the Dark Rider simply took Logan's arm and drove his claws into the wall of the ship. There was no time to even think, or react. The hull gave a sort of hushed wheeze where the claws punctured it even as the Dark Rider twisted again, pulling Logan's arm toward him and creating thin gashes in the wall. The metal strained, doing its best to avoid screaming.

_Someone should do some-_ was all the thought Solo had time to squeeze out.

The Dark Rider turned toward Logan, his head tilted as if ready to speak. Logan's only response was a feral growl, his other arm swinging in a half-circle. It connected with his opponent's shoulder and with a clunking clatter, Logan was free. The Dark Rider staggered back a step, unable to reach for its sword, or anything at all. Logan regarded it for a second, maybe less, and then his arm lashed out again, striking with brutal precision directly at the being's neck.

The body fell to the floor in a heap, partially covering its own weapon.

Logan stood there taking brief, shallow breaths. As he grew quiet, his hand absently drifted to the scars he had carved into the hull of the ship. He brushed against it and drew his hand back abruptly.

"It's cold," he said, half-wonder and half-confusion.

"And that's not good," the Insepton said suddenly, bursting into its own trembling motion. "Not good at all." It crawled back to the main console even as the ship bucked and jerked, the view of the Star Destroyer still hovering outside tilting crazily as all of space rotated on a pivot that defied all logic. Solo grabbed onto the back of a chair to steady himself, still managing to nearly crack his head on the low ceiling. Logan ducked down, but still took a few seconds to find his footing.

Flashes of light appeared on all sides of the window, and they had a quick glimpse of the jagged expanse of the port. The Star Destroyer began to slide away from them, the stars near it seeming to blur as if its mass had succeeded in holding its own patch of space still.

The ship shuddered again, the prone bodies beginning to slide toward Solo's corner. He saw a Comout and a Dark Rider nearly strike his leg, the two of them wrapped around each other in a sparse embrace. The Comout's head was thrown back and a chunk was taken out of its chest. Solo did his best to look away but it was somehow impossible.

Talking helped. He told himself that. "What the hell is happening?" Shouting wasn't necessary but made him feel that he was contributing more than he was.

"They destroyed the ship directly below us," the Insepton said. "And it, yes . . . the explosion was enough to throw us out of the tractor beam."

"But with how many dead?" Logan asked, his voice a dagger made of silk.

"If you can count them it means you are still alive," came the reply. Solo wasn't sure he could argue with that, as much as it appalled him. They needed to stay alive, he needed to stay alive. The dead were simply unlucky and if he had been one thing in his entire life, it was lucky. So far. These days that was becoming less and less true.

"We're free then?" Solo asked, clambering his way over to the controls, even as the ship went into a spin, the internal gravity kicking in and keeping them all from winding up on the ceiling. "We can get the hell out of-"

"No," the Insepton said, so curt it felt like a physical blow. "No, we cannot. We cannot go anywhere at the moment." It clung to the console as its legs briefly left the floor. Solo felt his stomach lurch and the port came into view again, as wide as the world, as wide as anything they might perceive.

"What do you mean?" Logan asked.

"Look," it said, in a stiff pivot. "Look at what you _did_." One tangled finger pointed at the cuts in the wall. "There's a hull breach now, the atmosphere is leaking out. If we try to jump now we'll tear all the air from the ship." Logan raised an eyebrow and rubbed at his knuckles but said nothing.

"Then we've got to land back at the port. We've got to dock this thing." Solo raced forward, crouching down next to the Insepton, his eyes scanning over the unfamiliar controls intently.

The Insepton glanced at him. "We have no choice." The metal around them squealed and the two of them nearly butted heads. The alien smelled faintly of the end of a damp day, a lonely swamp settling itself to sleep. "But the ship isn't exactly agreeing with me." Its fingers danced over the controls, schematics and readouts popping up in various colors, scrolling and beeping even as Solo's brain attempted to come to terms with any and all of it.

"What is it doing?" Solo asked, nudging the alien aside so he could give the controls a shot. _I'm a pilot and this is a spacecraft. How hard can this be? I've spent my life so far trying to get these damn things to do what I say_. Flying was the same theory no matter what vessel you were traveling in. At least that's what he was hoping. "It all seems pretty straightforward." He experimented with a few buttons before the Insepton could stop him and he was rewarded with the ship veering down toward the port. The grey-scarred metal of its surface loomed at them, pocked with meteor grazes and the silent invisible scouring of space's time wearing everything down.

Then the ship spiraled away from its course without warning, forcing Solo to cling to the console to keep from being swept back. "What the hell?" he asked, turning to the Insepton. _Come on, come _on_. _He jabbed at the controls again, trying to put his whole body into the descent, the way he had been taught. _If your bones don't ache when you are finished, then you haven't been piloting_, some pirate had told him in a bar whose name was lost to sodden memory. _All you've done is gone along for the ride_. The ship reeled and Solo bit his lip, doing his best to will it toward his destination. He had to force it down, but he felt the ship fighting him, trying to tear itself out toward the vastness surrounding them.

"It's a . . . a failsafe, I believe," the Insepton said, its voice strained. "It kicked in while we were in the tractor beam, or maybe it was set off during the fight. It's trying to prevent a collision by keeping us away from any solid objects." It tapped at the controls but seemed unsure of itself. "It may be trying to gain us velocity so we can make a jump, I . . . I don't know." It fidgeted, as if waiting for the ship itself to explain.

"Asking you if you know how to turn it off is probably pointless then, huh?" Solo said, gritting his teeth as he fought with the controls, the edge of the port creeping up as if pulled by unsteady hands. "There's got to be a way to disengage it." He was letting himself ride on instinct, but he wasn't sure if it would be enough. The ship was sensitive, the controls were unimaginably precise, responding to his actions with a level of finesse he didn't think was possible. But it wasn't his _Falcon_, that was for certain. For one thing, his ship tended to do what he wanted. He tried to keep his voice light, hoping that nobody noticed the sweat forming on his brow as the port careened crazily, playing a sort of elusive game where it didn't have to move at all. "I suppose this is a bad time to start looking for the instruction manual-"

"Here." That was Logan, out of nowhere. Claws already ejected, he reached down and stabbed the side of the console. His arm spasmed and he jerked it out immediately, even as the ship reacted with a near-squawk, diving hard to the right. In the dim lighting there might have been spidery sparks running up the claw-shaft.

"That was . . . kind of helpful," Solo said, feet digging into the floor to avoid sliding away. But the controls did suddenly feel more responsive, he groped his way back in front of them and did his best to start steering to where he thought the port was. The readouts became suffused with static, but he could barely read the projections anyway. He was going to have to go by intuition, which he told himself was a good idea.

Logan's lips pulled back from his teeth in the kind of grin that Solo was certain was the last sight a number of people had experienced. "If there's one thing I know how to do, it's take things that are working . . ." he banged the side of the console, a laugh bristling in his throat, ". . . and make them stop working."

Solo's stomach lurched somewhere in the vicinity of his throat as the ship dropped, the port racing at them like a massive, cracked palm. Alarms were blaring but all his fevered ears heard was a quiet insistent buzzing. The view was rotating slowly, as if the ship were a key trying to decide what the proper angle was before it slammed into the lock. He swore to himself as he propped himself up to get a better grip on the controls. It took a second to orient himself to the steering, it was too sensitive and refused to correct itself. The smallest twitch threatened to send the entire vessel peeling out toward the outer skin of the zone.

"Anyone want to take a guess on how fast we're going?" Solo asked casually, squinting and trying to pretend that he wasn't gauging by eye how to line up with the nearest docking bay. It wasn't that big a deal, he'd done it before that time on Cetus IV when the Lochshell Horde had dropped a sensor blackout on the area. Of course, he'd also been drunk then and was transporting a mouthy diplomat who kept screaming every time he was a few degrees off. The things he'd do to get out of a trial. He hadn't even been that guilty anyway.

The Insepton considered. "Judging by the rate we're approaching the port and taking into effect the blurring of the stars at the periphery of our vision, I'd say-"

"Too fast," Logan blurted out, not taking his gaze off.

"Right on the second try," Solo muttered. His arms were shaking violently as he tried to keep the ship steady, a rattle that he was starting to feel in his chest. It threatening to yank his heart into its arrhythmic shuddering and he had to keep breathing deeply to prevent it. That was supposed to be keeping him calm. He didn't feel calm.

"It'd be wonderful if you didn't land by using the port to break your velocity, Solo." Of course, staying calm wasn't easy when you had a backseat pilot and a volatile man who sprouted knives without any warning. But he'd been in worse. He kept telling himself that. The worse day would come to mind shortly.

"I've got this, all right?" He didn't know who he was speaking to. "We're okay, I've got it." Logan grunted near him but whether that was tacit support or a comment on their situation, he couldn't tell. There was no time for commentary. His eyes spotted a free docking bay even as he noticed the maintenance droids scattering for cover, their lights blinking danger signals that went unheeded. He could line this up, he could come in and do this. It wasn't too close at all. He had time to slow the ship down. _How do I slow the ship down?_ The wrong button might throw him into hyperspace and they'd all be dead. Solo tried not to think about that, sucking air through gritted teeth, doing calculations in his head that he hadn't done in years, the numbers and instincts coming back like a ragtag army finally returning home.

"You don't have to radio for clearance or anything, do you?" Logan asked. He had his fingertips pressed against the window, as if he might press through the too fragile skin of the glass and touch the force that was going to kill them. _No, we're not going to die_. His ears was hissing with escaping air.

"We don't exactly have that kind of luxury," Solo shouted. "Now everyone stay the hell quiet and we might have a chance here." The Insepton twitched, its mouth working. "That goes for you too! _Shut up!_"

If the alien had any response Solo didn't hear because he had stopped listening. He was beginning to decipher the logic of these controls, settling into the feel of the ship, the fragile skipping along theoretical waves that moved it forward. Turning a switch shaped as a curved cross he thought he sensed the vessel slowing down. But was it enough? He couldn't tell, or he could tell but he didn't like the answer. The port was rattling closer, too smoothly and too quickly, it appearance feather-light in the vast darkness, a single dingy spot spreading to encompass all there was. He _had_ this, he did. Locked into the course, Solo was pouring himself into the descent with no doubt in his mind that he might hit the target. But hitting was too much, he needed to touch it, to brush against it with a gentleness he wasn't certain he possessed. _Pull back, pull back_. Committed, the ship screamed from an unhinged mouth, air streaming out from the tears in it that Logan had made, icy fingers reaching into his lungs to steal very vestige. He had this. Razors sheared at the skin, leaving unseen scars, a closed fist desperately wanting to punch a hole into the mountain. A tap, all he needed was to tap. He had this. From the first summer he had seen the rockets go up, pure lines of smoke pointing forever upwards, in air so clean and sharp that you might run your fingers along it and never know that you'd been cut until the bright red blood stained the grass. _I have this_. They were coming and nothing was going to get out of their way. Stiffening slow and he had to be perfect, just this once. How many seconds? Ice frosting the window, too soon gone, gravity skittering along the surface like spilled children's beads. There was nothing but the port now, just the wall of it reaching out with grinning dirty teeth to catch them and break them and gnaw them and spew their stricken wreckage all over the emptiness. _Dammit, I have this_. The screen had rattled in dissonant songs and he had started running then, out the door and running, down the road and running, after the gleaming rising sparks he had run, shouting to them, casting his voice at the moaning air. _Wait for me, _as if they might halt in their ascents, as if it were possible to let a planet's bonds snag you once again. _You have to wait for me_. Every sinew hurt and that was right. But they were going to smash up against the reality of it. _Wait, wait, no, I've got you. _And he had never stopped running.

Seconds now, in slices as whispers.

He would do this.

_Oh, Han._

Wait, who?

_You can stop now._

Who is this?

_You have to stop running_.

No, you don't understand, there's never enough time.

_It's okay, you can finally-_

"-brace yourself!"

As the world became heavy and suffocating, drowning out the straining of protesting metal.

_Logan?_

And every light went out, all at once.


	4. Gravity Makes It Easier

Full title: Gravity Makes It Easier for the Modern Spaceman to Step Out

* * *

The world came back together as grains of sand trickling from slowly opening fingers, the picture forming in sinuous lines of color as the pile grew larger. Backwards dissolution, attuned to the ringing in his head. Stardust drifted downwards forever, pushing for a bottom that didn't exist and blinking in futile flickers even as the darkness swallowed them, saying in every moment, _I was here. See me? I was here. Don't forget that I existed_.

The notion forced him to twitch and shifted something molten and wobbly in his head. _I won't forget, I told you I wouldn't-_

That's when he realized that if he was thinking he must be awake. With a groan, Solo opened his eyes to find that they were already open and seeing nothing but black.

_Oh no, I'm blind how can I be_, the panic seized him and left him just as quickly when the blackness gathered rough texture and rippled, gaps of dim light appearing at the edges.

"_Ah_." Painfully, he levered himself backwards, feeling slightly cheered by the lack of broken bones grinding together in his body. His sight was resolving, the blurred grayness of earlier replaced by the vista of a bridge surrounded by scattered debris, chairs torn from their housings, control units shattered, bodies draped over equipment with gentle care, like they had just decided to go to sleep right where they had been standing. The air had a stale smell to it, both of death and a more acrid burning stench.

The blackness near him rustled again. Solo slid back, his body pressing against the chair. It tilted alarmingly, the tortured metal creaking. He blinked rapidly, letting the blackness found itself a shape, letting the shape find itself a contour and the contour become the face of a man.

"Told you I'd do it," he said to Logan, who appeared to be twisting his neck, a series of popping noises punctuating the motion.

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Yeah," was all he said, pulling his legs in closer and moving into more of a sitting position. He grimaced as he did so, like he had suddenly become uncomfortable in his own skin. The lights on the console behind him had gone out completely, although a tiny spark arced its way through broken dials and switches every few seconds.

"Hey, you all right?" For the first time he noticed that Logan's face looked all bruised, mottled with purplish spots, and his forehead covered in blood, some of it still oozing from a decent sized gash in his skull. His hair was matted down and he ran a hand through it. It only messed it up further, causing spikes to stick up wildly. He seemed only to be doing it out of reflex. "You look like you're-"

"Yeah, I know." Logan rubbed a hand along his forehead, staring at the blood smeared all over his palm. But it seemed to have stopped flowing already, and Solo thought the gash looked smaller than it had a minute ago. "I'll be all right, I bounce back quickly."

Solo shrugged. "If you say so." Throwing one arm to brace himself, he started to get to his feet. "But how the hell did you wind up in front of me?"

Logan threw him a cocky grin. "The way you landed, I don't know how we all didn't wind up on the roof." He twisted to the side, also standing. As he did so, Solo got a good look at the console behind him. The metal on the front of it was smashed and bent, crumpled to the point where it was nearly inverted. The shape of the indentation looked familiar.

He was about to speak when the stacked bodies of two Comouts suddenly twitched. He reached for his laser but noticed that Logan wasn't even reacting. A second later one of the bodies flopped aside and the Insepton uncurled itself from underneath.

"Well," it said, eyeing them both, "it appears we are not dead. I suppose you have my gratitude."

"Save it," Logan snapped, barely sparing the alien a glance. "We're down, what the hell do we do next?"

"First we make sure that we've docked properly." Solo went to the airlock door, finding a control pad next to it and doing his best to guess at what the checks might be. All the lights were a solid color and none of them were blinking, so he assumed that was a good thing. "The systems should have automatically made the connection with the ship, so all we have to do is . . ." holding his breath involuntarily, he tapped what appeared to be the most likely button. He was rewarded with the door sliding open, with a _puh_ sound as the different airs mixed together.

He let his own breath slide out. "Perfect," he said, flashing them a smug grin. "Damn, I'm good." _Damn, I'm so glad that worked_.

"Congratulate yourself when this is all over." Logan slipped past him, slinking further down the airlock. "I don't hear anyone else, but someone had to notice our coming in." His own voice echoed in waves, segments in delayed reverberation crashing in to drown out his speech. But he carried through, regardless.

"It's possible that in all the chaos around the port they didn't notice our reentry." The Insepton went by as well, leaving Solo the last person in the ship. "It's also possible that port control did notice it but isn't capable of doing anything about it. I suspect they have now officially lost control of the situation."

Solo frowned. "The Empire appears to be muscling in."

"Indeed. And as they're looking for you, once they get a hold of the logs someone is going to figure it out. They may be going through the computers now."

"Then let's stop chattering about it." Logan was standing at the end of the corridor, his form a sharp spike against the gleaming grit. "Let's _move_."

"We can get back to the _Falcon_." The Insepton had nearly joined Logan and Solo was doing his best to relinquish the idea that he was shouting into the wind at them. "The engines should be almost done repairing themselves, once we fire her up, nobody is going to catch us."

"You have a lot of confidence in your ship."

"Hey, we scraped by the Kessel Run in thirteen parsecs," Solo noted. He hadn't moved from the door. "That's a record."

"For you, perhaps." The Insepton sniffed. "I once saw a Hurcanoid cluster do it in twelve."

Solo bristled. "Pal, I doubt they were even measuring it right-"

"Hey, fellas," Logan interrupted with a shrill whistle. "How about we save the _whose spaceship is more awesome_ argument for when we're not on the run?" He stabbed at the control pad and the outer airlock door hissed open. Taking a step out, he added with a careening expression, "If nobody is going to lead the way back, I'm going to make my own. And I'm going to pick a straight line, no matter who's in the way."

"Fine," Solo said, though not without shooting the Insepton one last glare. "Go along, I'll be out in a minute."

Logan had already done so, creeping around the corner. The Insepton paused in the doorway, however. "Solo, you are not thinking of-"

"We are in an airlock next to a disabled ship. Where the hell am I going to go?"

The Insepton considered. "Very well. But do not be long."

"_Yes_, mother," Solo responded with a sigh. But the alien was already gone.

Turning back, he stared into the ship, at the broken and battered equipment, bodies stacked on bodies, and the terrible stillness that pervaded it now. He did his best not to remember it teeming with motion, the aliens running about, all the subtle random actions interlocking into one forward purpose. All he saw was splatters of blood in patterns he couldn't read, in warnings that he wouldn't pay attention to, the sense that once everyone was dead you couldn't tell who was the good and who was the bad. Whether that made even any difference, in the long run.

_All they were doing was helping_. One of the Comouts had landed propped against the far wall, its legs twisted and half-severed. But even with the lights out in the ship, the eyes shone dully with the intelligence it used to have, staring at him with both questions and accusations.

"I'm sorry." He wasn't talking to anyone at all. They had made their decisions and the consequences were theirs alone. This was why he stayed out of this crap and let matters be left alone. Because this was how it always ended, in rows of bodies with no one left to speak for you.

And yet the eyes never blinked. _Dammit, look away_. Without tearing his own gaze from the dead alien's, his left hand groped on the control pad. _Stop looking at me, you're done. That's all you had_. He found the button almost by accident and the door slid shut, the Comout seeming to squeeze itself into the smaller and smaller slit the door made until it was sealed away completely.

He was tired suddenly. One hand pressed against the door, feeling its coolness. Expelling a sigh, he watched his breath condense on the shiny metal and evaporate all too quickly. The gaze was still finding him. _Look away, please._

His fingers hovered over the pad again, over another button. _You've done enough. You can go now_.

Without hesitating, he pressed it, hearing the _whoosh_ through the metal. A small display above the pad said _Vessel Released_. He thought he felt the separation through the thick barrier, but that was just an illusion. In the end, he felt nothing at all. There was no difference between this moment and the previous one, that's what he told himself. Change was a beast that always passed him by to savage another.

_Just keep moving_. He wasn't certain who the advice was really for. Pivoting, he strode away from the airlock without a glance backwards. As he made his way further down the tube, he could hear a rush of voices gradually rising, a cluster of words attempting to jam themselves into the opening to reach him all at once.

He stepped outside cautiously to find Logan leaning casually against the nearest wall, one leg propped up to brace himself. There was a lit cigarette dangling from his lip and he had both hands in his jacket pockets. Even out in the open he blended in, the eye sliding right past where he might be standing. He didn't stand out unless you knew he was there and once that happened you were unable to take your eyes off him.

_What the?_ Solo shook himself, not knowing where the thought came from. He noticed that Logan was staring outwards and without speaking followed the man's gaze.

As he did so the world opened up, expanding ever outwards into a jumble of clashing colors and sounds, falling down as drifting cubes and the kind of rain that you didn't realize existed until you wiped your face and found your hand coming away wet. Words came at him in languages that overlapped each other, the blending of noises forming new tongues that only lived in those few seconds, sputtering as elegant insects and thereafter only burning inside flickers of memory. Looking up, he thought he was staring into forever but that was just a trick of the architecture, the lines at the edges spiraling inwards and curving to meet at the flattened ceiling, the glass polished clean so that nothing appeared to rest between you and the void. Random chunks of debris drifted past overhead and he thought a spiked shadow resting across the ceiling that might have been from the Star Destroyer, floating somewhere out of view.

The rest of the area was packed and suffused with constant motion. Streamers semi-transparent and otherwise crisscrossed the air, boxes and booths arranged overhead in degenerating hung circles, the spaces in between shimmering with implied gravity paths, stairs and lanes and lines shunting people from one end of the zone to the other. Solo saw that the area was oval shaped, with what appeared to be a giant screen at the far side although right now it appeared to be dark. What Solo saw most were hands of all kinds, tendrils, tentacles, segmented appendages, all reaching out and imploring. You passed by and they brushed against you, tried to follow you, left marks on your skin that refused to vanish. Motes flitted as subliminal ads, encouraging deals in slivers under the eye. At ground level there was the constant sifting rustling of money changing hands, the scratching and clinking of credits both hard and soft.

"Marketplace," Solo said to his companion, who only eyed him with a _who cares_ glance.

"Figured as much," Logan said, taking a drag on the cigarette and holding it a little away from his face. "I've been around a few times, you know."

"Just trying to place myself." He took a few steps forward, trying not to wince as a dozen pairs of alien eyes all focused on him, calls and offers beginning to wing their way for items that it was clearly vital he possessed. "If we're in the Merchanters' District, then we've got to go . . ." he narrowed his eyes, staring at the starfield overhead to get his bearings.

He broke off suddenly, looking around quickly. "Hey, where'd our friend go?"

"Off somewhere, he'll be back." The cocky grin returned briefly. "Don't worry, we're not rid of him yet."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Solo said sullenly as Logan pushed himself off the wall and came over to join him, flinging the cigarette casually away as he did so. "What is he doing, looking for a bargain?"

"Information." The two of them began walking, immediately immersing themselves in a dense crowd where every person seemed to be going in a different direction at once in as many forms of locomotion possible. Slithering, striding, undulating, lumbering, finding every angle and somehow not colliding. Stands and setups graced either side of the path, theoretical ladders dangling from overhead to assist in reaching the upper levels for those not capable of flight. Droids crawled back exhorting various products, images strafing across metal skin or projecting onto the naked air. One droid followed a broad Turbitian, staying a safe few feet behind it while using its wide back to display an ad for Muntar's Dust Scrubbers.

"About?" Solo lifted his arm to let a pack of giggling Kuljins flitter past, their tiny arms clutching spare parts that might have been stolen, given the angry bellowing that was coming down the line after them.

"What's going on here, I think." Logan's walk was unerring, dodging the churning masses like he was riding a kind of supple wind. But his eyes kept glancing elsewhere, studying every passerby without lingering too long on a single one. "This whole place, it's teetering. Can't you feel it?"

Solo narrowed his eyes. "Feel what?"

Logan rubbed at his chin. "Fear. Uncertainty. They reek of it. Look at them." Rope-like hosts of a Roucanth swarm slipped past, clambering over each other to go forward, even as the crowd parted just slightly to let them go by. Solo thought he saw one of the jeweled eyes seek his, begging for help. But that was just his imagination and the timbre of the time. It had to be. "It's all going to hell out there and they're pretending that it's fine because they don't know what else to do. And there's going to come a point very soon where they can't pretend anymore." His voice was flinted, almost drowned out by the swirling cacophony. But Solo heard every word. "And I sure as hell don't want to be in the middle of this when it hits them."

A Palnon child wailed in the corner of a stand, its skin cycling though its prismatic emotions. Solo felt words burst in his brain asking if his laser beam needed more penetration and realized that the sound was hard encoded with subliminals entwined in the center of the noise. Shaking it off, he glanced over at Logan, his face appeared masked, deep in thought. In the midst of the teeming crowd, he seemed the only person to still achieve a sort of privacy, separating himself even while immersed.

"Listen," he said, not sure what even made him speak, "I'm sorry about your friends."

Logan didn't return his gaze, continually staring straight ahead. One of his hands twitched and it was the only outward sign. That and a certain shine in his eyes that was gone too quickly. "Yeah."

_Stop talking, you ass_. But he didn't and he would never be able to tell himself why. "If you want . . . when this is over, when we're through with all this crap . . ." he swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. _Perhaps a refreshing swig of Haldavian Moisture, fresh squeezed from the mountainous air might _came the ad-stab and he tossed the notion out of his brain even as it gave him a throbbing pain across his forehead. "I can take you back to the . . . ship." _Where they used to be_. "It won't hard to find and-"

Logan cut him off with a stare. For a second Solo thought the man was going to say something biting, or simply snarl and stalk away. It was there, too, in the way the fractured light fell on his face. But a certain brightness fell away from him then and what remained was still shrouded, retaining an honesty that could be cracked if one only knew the code. But Solo didn't think any person now alive knew where to even start anymore.

Instead, he only said, "It's all right." Another few steps went by before he spoke again. "Thanks." Curt as it was, the words seemed to be chosen carefully, in those moments when you only had one second and one chance to make the shot.

Vendors pranced by, one offering a map to the brain of the planet Illgax VII, which was currently in the throes of its vibrant nightmare period where artists could tap into its columnar synapses and become infused with theoretical brilliance. If the flood of ideas didn't burn out their own minds. Or its ravenous immune system didn't devour them first. Projected holograms displayed peril in implied forms, the cure for any latent fear being sold in tiny jars of bubbling liquid that went for a different price every few minutes as the anxiety index crawled relentlessly upwards. They were taking bets in the shadowed stands of what sectors were going to be demolished first when the time came, who might survive and who might still be standing. Oddsbreakers hired secret spies to lure people into danger in order to throw off the wagers, or perhaps might trick a man into living when he wished to die. It was nothing personal, just a complicated dance with an opponent who never ran out of breath, the single thrusted striving of fate and the constant dodging of the gap between what had to happen and what might have been.

"You're not going to let the alien have the artifact, are you?" Solo had been looking toward the geometric balconies when Logan spoke and was thus caught off-guard.

"That's not part of the plan, no," Solo replied, drawing a step away from Logan. Where was this coming from? Nearby a man was trying to sell the story of his love because he had no use for it anymore and he needed it to stop reminding him. _Are you alone?_ he kept asking_. It might bring you comfort_. But it was fake, of course, a masquerade like everything else here. You bought what you thought you needed and adapted it to suit your own perceptions. That's how the Merchanters sustained themselves. "I didn't exactly ask for him to come along."

"But I've been thinking." Logan dug his hands into his pockets, trying to make himself even smaller against the wedge of the crowd. "It belongs to them, right? Their whole lives, this is what they've been searching for."

"What are you getting at?"

Logan scratched at his nose. "They split themselves apart, they can't even bear to be in the same _room_ as each other, until this thing is found. And now it is. And you're not going to let them have it."

Solo only stared, his expression yielding nothing.

Logan met his gaze blithely, calmly. "You're not rotten, I know this. Sure, you're a bastard but you're a decent man underneath. We all have to be sometimes, to get by. But this, this is just cruel, in a way."

"You don't understand." It wasn't a protest, merely a statement.

Logan shrugged. "Maybe I don't. This ain't my fight, it has nothing to do with me except that people keep trying to kill me. But the rest of them after this thing, the Empire, the Dark Riders, whoever, their reasons aren't your reasons. They want power, or an advantage. That's not what you want." Ursellians wheeled upwards in a mating dance and exploded, dream-shards raining down and settling in your brain, dislodging words and leaving them squealing and lost on the pavement. But some collected the fragments and might sell them back to you, if you had the credits. If not, someone else would buy.

"What do I want, then?" He walking now in a curious swagger, although his gaze never stayed in one place for long.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. Because giving it back to them seems to me to be the right thing and out of all of them, you're the one with the most balls to do the right thing."

"I think you've got me mixed up with someone else." He said it with a smirk, although the humor of it didn't touch his eyes.

Logan ignored that. "And I can't think of any reason so important that you'd choose to play it this way. I keep asking myself that, and I haven't come up with a good answer yet."

"You expect me to give you the answer?"

Logan smiled at him mirthlessly. "It ain't me you have to convince."

Solo looked away for a second and then found Logan again tentatively. "Listen, none of this is up to me."

"So you keep saying." Logan's voice darted around the notion of belief. "And I can't tell if you can't say or you won't, so I'm choosing not to worry about it. I'm just here to see it through, in whatever form it takes."

Solo gave him a sharp glare. "What exactly are you saying, here? You're switching sides?"

The immediate answer was a grunt. "I don't see any sides here. Just people wanting to get this done in different ways. Some I agree with, some I don't."

"How do _you_ want to see it done?" There was a trembling insistence at the edge of his voice, like something held back might finally break. But whatever barrier existed stood firm, and remained.

His grin showed only teeth. "I'm reserving my right to decide that when the time comes. Then we'll see where it's fallen. You get what I'm saying?"

"Fine," Solo said abruptly, his whole posture tilted away even as he kept moving forward. A flicker of unease crossed his face, even as the bustle tried to shove him out of his momentum. He wiped at his palm, as if trying to remove an unpleasant sensation. Above them a jerwinded Kilkurn was hawking mystery grafts, for those who felt their lives needed more excitement and intrigue, or for paranoids who wanted every fear to be finally true.

"All right," he said, almost coughing, his voice swollen and quick, "this is what happened-"

"Enough sight-seeing." The Insepton suddenly appeared between them, as if having burst from somewhere beneath the floor. Solo leapt a step sideways, and even Logan looked slightly startled, although the emotion was too quick to truly register. He never missed a stride, however. "We have to go."

Logan stared down at it, one eyebrow raised. "You giving the orders now?"

The Insepton wasn't fazed. "If it makes you feel more empowered, you can wait a minute and come to the same conclusion that I just did." Its stringy arm pointed forward into the crowd. "It turns out that we have company."

Solo carefully raised himself on the balls of his feet to see over all the variously shaped heads and immediately noticed the rounded white helmets filtering through the assembled, some beings moving aside to let them by and some not moving until shoved.

"Well, that's a problem," Solo said, not sure if reaching for his laser was a good idea right now. In at least three other cultures that might be around such an act was a tacit declaration of war, while in four more it was a profession of deepest desire.

"There's at least two other groups." The Insepton was looking left and right, its eyes seeming to go in opposite directions from its body. "The takeover is all but announced at this point." He could see the opaque reflections of their visors sweeping the crowd, clearly searching for someone. For them, probably. Underneath the churning noise of the crowd their footsteps could be heard, a steady clomping that was growing louder with every second.

"Here." Logan suddenly grabbed them both and yanked them off to the side, diving into a gap between stands. "How about we take this talk somewhere else."

They fell awkwardly between a set of partitions. Solo rolled to the side, remembering how much Logan weighed and not wanting to be crushed again. The man wouldn't have landed on him anyway, as he came short of them, already in a crouch. The Insepton moved past them, as unconcerned as always. They were surrounded by a series of squat boxes, reducing the available light a series of slashes.

"Stay low," Logan ordered, not a problem for the alien or even Logan. Solo flattened himself to nearly the floor. "They're not searching the stands yet."

A Trinite wandered in from a back entrance, its ear flaps widened in colored surprise when it saw them gathered there. It dropped the stack of scented memory postcards it was carrying, and suddenly the small area was filled with both the airy odors of the gossamer nano-meadows of Altar Re and the rank moist stink of the healing swamps of the Ruyan System.

"You may want to pick those up," Logan said, handing him one that had fallen near to his foot. "You're not going to be able to sell any with them all over the floor." As he handed it back to him, part of one claw silently slid out from his under the skin. "And that's not good for business, is it now?"

The Trinite nodded, its throat pulsating. With only a nervous glance at them it stepped past to the front of its stand. It started to lay out the cards, occasionally calling out to passerbys about the benefits of leaving without going anywhere. Solo could tell that it was trying to pretend they weren't there but was failing miserably.

Solo leaned closer to Logan. "You think he's too scared to squeal? Or frightened enough that he'll spill when they come by?"

Logan was watching him intently for a second, but then looked back to Solo and shrugged. "Who knows? We'll deal with it when we need to. But I think he'll behave."

The Insepton made a small noise but had no other comment.

"So what's going on?" Solo asked the alien. "What did you find out?"

"At least one platoon of troopers has landed from the Destroyer. They don't have enough men to completely shut the port down but that will going to change soon." The clomping was growing closer and the Insepton lowered its voice to somewhere past a whisper. Logan was watching the crowd but Solo had a hunch he was paying attention. "At that point they'll probably restrict movements between the sectors and then perform a more thorough search."

"Then we need to get back to the _Falcon_ before that happens." A sudden thought occurred to him with enough force to make him pause. "They didn't find my ship, did they?"

"If they did, I didn't hear about it."

"You'd know if they had it," Logan chimed in, still not taking his eyes off the shifting crowd. The footsteps were relentless, trying to drown out the heartbeat of the port and throw the rhythms off forever. The Trinite was asking everyone who went past, _wouldn't you like to get away without leaving? Wouldn't you like to be anywhere but where you are?_ "They'd use it to flush us out. They wouldn't keep it to themselves."

"It's safe where it is," the Insepton said. "They've already risked an incident with the Comouts, but they can explain that as a miscommunication and execute some officers to mollify them. Sending soldiers poking around their sector will be harder to dismiss."

"An incident you helped cause," Solo pointed out.

The alien didn't even twitch. "I certainly didn't tell them to start shooting."

"Either way, we have to get out of here soon and back to the ship," Logan noted. "In case they jump the gun."

"Staying in one place is the worst option right now. In fact-"

Logan held a hand in front of the Insepton, his face indicating silence. Solo held himself still and for a moment it seemed that all sound had dropped out entirely, the crowd falling away until the only bits left were the approaching hammers of their footsteps and the lone voice of the Trinite cajoling anyone who might listen that there might be a better place than here and he had the windows into it.

". . . _there's so much out there, most of it you'll hear about in stories . . ._"

The only sign was a few beings running ahead, the crowd sort of undulating forward as if trying to keep abreast of a dense wave. Solo tensed, hating the whole waiting part of this. Part of him wanted to just dive out into the crowd and start shooting at what was coming, in order to get rid of it, in order to get it out of the way finally.

". . . _you're never going to see all of it, not with your own eyes . . ._"

Next to him, Logan was almost relaxed, a certain looseness in his expression that hadn't been there before. His claws were out just a few inches, enough so that with his knuckles brushing the floor they only lightly scraped against it.

"_. . . you, sir, wouldn't you like to see the beauty of the Dancing Sparkclouds, an image you can bring to yourself again and again, even when memory has grown faint . . ._"

Shouting, shoving, people were looking behind them, almost walking backwards.

". . . _ah, I can tell you've seen them before, something in your eyes says there was a time once, when you were young, that you witnessed their graceful sweep of their electric leaps painted against the verdant skies . . ._"

The first helmet came into view. Even expecting it, Solo nearly drew back.

". . . _in time with a music only they could hear, arcing as jagged lines in beauty, coming together in twirling swirls and barely touching . . ._"

The visor was so impersonal, he had been stared at by aliens all his life but this was worse. It was empty, there was no emotion behind the mask. And when the trooper's gaze finally found you, there was no hope that it even cared at all.

". . . _I cried the first time I saw it, can I admit that to you . . ._"

The first one came by, with two more trailing it. Dirty white, a contrast against every color. Their lasers were out but held casually, not pointed at anyone in particular. Logan took a breath and held it.

". . . _and the memory on here, can I let you in on a secret, if I can . . . it's mine, from all those days ago, I saw them with my mate, we watched their stories until we had no more stamina to see . . ._"

Moving in rigid lines, maybe ten refusing to blend in with the crowd. Forcing all the rest to fall into the sway of their angular geometries. One glanced their way, seeming to stare deep into the stand.

". . . _she's gone now and I miss her everyday but I hold the memory as one of my happiest moments to have witnessed with her . . ._"

Did he pause for just a second? Solo tightened his grip on his laser. Logan unspooled further.

". . . _it's a happiness I'm willing to share with you, it's only a small thing but everyone should experience it again, especially you, sir, all I ask of you . . ._"

But whatever the trooper saw, he never said and went on without a second glance.

". . . _is that you look, is that you see, for just a moment, that's all . . ._"

Even as the rest went by, armor clanking and squeaking. The noise took a long time to fade, tenaciously clinging to every crack and cranny.

". . . _just take a look, someone take a look, please just . . ._"

And the hole left behind in their absence was filled slowly as the crowd surged back into place in jagged fits and starts, muttering amongst themselves and trying not to make eye contact with each other. Uneasiness pulsed under every action.

"Come on," Logan whispered, tapping Solo on the shoulder and indicating with a motion of his head the back entrance. "Let's move."

The three of them slipped out that gap, into a deeper cluster of stands. The shadows of the upper levels draped down on them, velvet and coiled. The roof of this sector was wide and domed and clear, the stars nothing more than pinpricks, some of them obscured by the presence of the ships outside, the hovering ghosts they weren't allowed to see. Solo caught Logan glancing upwards and then back down again sharply. Fragments of voices came to them, the promises never ending and as substantial as the words they were grown on. The density of it was a maze that had more than one exit but none of them might be proper. Ahead of them on the curved farthest wall was the screen, imploring to them with messages that not one of them cared about.

"You know the right way?" Logan asked Solo, even as the man was trying to get his bearings. He had a good sense of direction but with all the running and ducking his orientation was beginning to get thrown off.

Solo craned his head to check around, doing his best to gauge the exits by the forest and tangles of the stands and bodies that dotted the area. For a minute he said nothing and the only movement in his body was the eyes.

When he did move again it was only a quick nod. "Yeah, this way." Checking that his laser was still secured against his belt, he moved straight ahead. The steady thumpings of the troopers footsteps were far off now, gradually fading into the other direction. They might come by again, or they might not come by at all.

"If I'm thinking this right," Solo explained, "we should be able to cut through the general refueling zone. From there we can probably sneak through the garbage fills and wind up somewhere near where we should be."

Logan listened to all this and snorted, his nostrils flaring. "You know, for all the times we've crisscrossed this damn port, I don't think we've taken the same way twice."

Solo only flashed him a grin. "Hey, you go on tour with me, you get to see everything."

"We'll be seeing the inside of a brig if we don't move a bit faster," the Insepton noted dryly, coming in between them again. "It's only some time before they consolidate enough to put an alarm out for-"

_bweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee_

Logan winced and covered one ear. "What the hell?"

"General alert," the Insepton said, its body arching a little.

Solo cocked his head to the side. "No, that's not it. That's more repetitive, this is more of an . . ."

_eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeettentionattentionattention_

". . . announcement alert," Solo finished even as the screen across suddenly went dead. Its ambient noise must have been crucial to the background atmosphere of the sector because the zone seemed that much more silent with it gone, a strange shimmering chill settling over everything. There was a held breath evident in the air and even the constant chatter of the merchanters seemed to falter and stumble, tatters of speech without any foundation falling down all around them. A lone droid squawked about the secret path to paradise if one could crack the code of its precision. There are gates everywhere, hidden in every path and every face. A thousand people might tell you it was true and only one of them needed to not be lying.

With a spiraling drone the screen flickered back into life.

The view opened on a neat and wide room, the walls and much of the center choked with churning computers and console bristlings with lights and whirrings. Technicians were working on each one, darting around the room and seemingly oblivious to the man who stood in the center.

Tall and thin, he still filled his drab grey uniform all too easily, the worn lines on his face revealing nothing but the contours of his hardness. There was a patch on his shirt but even with the size of the screen it was too far away to see properly. He was standing rigidly but with a naturalness that betrayed a stern discipline, his arms clasped easily behind his back.

"Han, we have to go-" the Insepton tapped at him.

"Wait," Solo said, his eyes narrowed.

The man on the screen began speaking and his voice echoed from every corner. Somehow he managed to evade the flatness of the screen and assumed a third dimension so that when he was staring out at them he found each and every one.

". . . _this is Moff Rardigl speaking from Port Central to all current denizens and occupiers of the port . . ._"

"Moff?" Logan said, like he was trying to contain a laugh. "That's not his name, is it?"

"No, it's a title." Solo didn't take his eyes off the screen. "It's an Empire rank."

". . . _I regret to inform you that due to recent incidents at the port that threaten the stability of the local region the Empire has seen it necessary . . ._"

"Then this is the takeover . . ." the Insepton breathed, its voice falling into a small rasp.

". . . _to take control of all operations and day-to-day duties of the port until such time as we can impose a level of peace that we see fit, until we feel that the port can maintain such peace on its own . . ._"

"There was no chaos until you bastards started showing up and wrecking the place!" someone shouted from high above. There were scattered bursts of agreement and almost just as many calls for silence.

As the Moff was speaking, several stormtroopers came into view, taking up positions all the around the room. All of them had their lasers lowered into offensive stances. The technicians continued to work but there was a certain jitteriness to them that was apparent even though the screen.

". . . _as the current risk to our ships passing through the region is still too great to allow the situation to continue unchecked. As the port is not capable of controlling the territory surrounding it, the Empire will do so . . ._"

Logan snorted. "He's full of crap."

"Sure he is," Solo responded. "And everyone knows it. But that's the way the game is played."

"Only we are the pieces in the game," the Insepton said direly. "And I do not wish to get taken off the board. So, please, may we move along?"

Solo glanced at the alien. "What's _your_ hurry, pal?"

"He's right," Logan chimed in. "This guy isn't going to tell us anything we don't already know."

". . . _we anticipate the port being able to continue all its normal operations shortly, however there will be a transition period imposed during which time certain rules will be in effect . . ._"

Solo cast one look back at the screen. "All right," he said finally, turning away.

". . . _as of now all ships in port are restricted to docks, with no exceptions. No incoming ships will be accepted and must either find another port or idle at a distance we decree until this period is lifted . . ."_

A chorus of howls and calls went out from the entire Merchanter section, and flutters of cheap goods started to rain down from high above as the beings began to express their anger.

"Like I said," Logan noted, even as Solo ducked from a shower of angular metal beads with no discernable purpose. "It's just a matter of time before it explodes." Staring upward, his eyes reflected a distance that was too near to grasp.

Solo met Logan's glance with a frown but said nothing else.

". . . _effective immediately all movements will be monitored into and out of each sector, as it has come to our attention that certain undesirable elements are active in the port, some of which are wanted by the Empire and will be brought in for justice . . ._"

"I'll show you undesirable!" came the shout and mocking laughter followed in ribbons right after it.

The three of them snaked through the stands, their shadows cut up and tattered by the silhouettes of the vendors. None of the eyes seemed to be on them. Solo was in the lead and he kept checking back to make sure the others were still following him. At a sort of intersection, he halted, glancing left and right to see which might be better.

". . . _while some inconvenience may result at first, if all beings cooperate then matters will proceed smoothly and operations will return to normal as soon as possible, which is our goal, as we would prefer as little disruption . . ."_

Solo pointed to his left and then went forward without waiting for any conformation.

". . . _needless to say, cooperation is mandatory and strict measures will be taken against those not in compliance . . ._"

Another round of calls went up throughout the sector, although slightly more muted this time. All the voices were lost in the faceless slew of vendors scattered about the zone but Solo thought it was a kind of bravery. He preferred to stick with the shadows and stay alive for another day, if that was any kind of goal. It worked well enough for his purposes though.

". . . _with an amount of force that we deem appropriate and . . .-_"

It took him a few steps to realize that the rest of them were not following him. The two of them had stopped, Logan standing with his head cocked to the side slightly, one palm out and parallel to the floor.

"Hey, guys," he said, holding his arms out, "I thought we were in a hurry-"

"_Sh_ . . ." Logan cautioned and somehow the quiet simplicity of it _carried_.

That was the moment when Solo heard the dense humming.

The noise ignited a nerve in deep memory and Solo's eyes widened. His laser was in his hand before he even thought about the motion, his gaze darting left and right and even above.

". . . _including lethal measures dealt out without . . ._"

"Dammit, we have to get out of here _now_," he hissed, stepping forward just enough so that his shadow fell across them, as if the weight of it alone might be enough to snag them. His heart was beating wildly and he wanted to say it was from pure adrenaline and maybe it was but other causes were prevailing as well.

"No." Logan was so still that the word seemed to come from some other source. But there was no doubt that at any moment he could _move_ and any obstacles would merely be a formality. "It's not here. Look."

The humming hadn't grown louder but was somehow descending and broadening. Telling himself that he wasn't hesitating, Solo looked up at the screen. Even with their sideways angle to it, the view was still clear.

". . . _warning and what the devil is that noise . . ._"

The man on the screen, so large, his form redrawn constantly with darting holographic lines, suddenly turned to face the men in the room with him. His expression creased with impatience and the look of a man used to a certain level of precision.

"_Don't stand there, will one of you go and check_-"

That's when the dark columns came down, emerging from the ceiling and plunging right into the floor. A few stormtroopers fired immediately, but the lasers simply passed harmlessly through, some of them seeming to bend in the process. Sparks flew where some computers were struck and at least one technician went down clutching at his arm.

"What are the chances of this ending well?" Solo asked no one in particular. The lack of answer was the best response he was going to get.

". . . _take up defensive positions around the room until we decide . . ._" Moff Rardigl was still speaking when the columns finally receded, revealing somewhere between six and a dozen Dark Riders.

"_Who are you?"_ Rardigl demanded. His posture never changed but he was backing away slowly, as if he might be able to break through the screen and fall down safe amongst them. One of the Dark Riders strode toward him, it boots and armor barely making any noise. "_This is currently Empire controlled territory, if you have any grievances then I have to ask that you state them through proper channels_."

It merely stared at him, as if waiting. The glimmer of its eyes posed a neutral malice, directed toward everything and nothing.

Moff Rardigl drew himself up a bit taller. "_I warn you, if you do not vacate the room, you will be executed . . ._"

A low chorus of howls came from the surrounding vendors, but it wasn't clear if they were cheering for anyone and if so, who.

Logan was suddenly pushing against Solo, hustling him along. "Come on, we'd better go."

"No, wait," Solo muttered, bravely putting a hand on Logan's chest to hold him back. It barely mattered and he was shoved closer to a corridor. He could not explain his strange fascinating at that moment. "We should see this-"

"_I request your answer immediately!_"

"I know what's going to happen." Logan's voice was low and close and intent. "So do you, Solo. Let's _go_."

"_Very well. Troopers, terminate this lot-_"

And the Dark Rider nearest Moff Rardigl acted so quickly that all the intervening segments were erased or nonexistent, its hand going to its belt, to the hilt sheathed there. It was out, all in the same motion, the air closest to them becoming a slit iris, even as the Dark Rider's arm came across and over and up without pause or resistance.

Whatever else Moff Rardigl had to say was lost as the remnants of his bisection struck the floor.

Even before the action was completed the other Dark Riders all drew their swords, the room flooded with the contrasted colors of their weapons, moving in eerie collaboration as they fell upon all the others in the room with a focus that threatened to burn through the screen. The sector was swamped in screams and the random dissections of their cries.

". . . _stay out of the way, just keep away . . ."_

". . . _my arm what did you do to my . . ._"

". . . _in the stairwell, there's more in the . . ._"

In seconds the noises in the room dimmed, diminishing to the smallest points.

". . . _wait what are they what . . ._"

". . . _in the corner don't let back you not that way . . ._"

". . ._ I can't breathe, someone help, stop staring at me and just . . ._"

Leaving one man to stumble across their view, his uniform streaked with blood. The briefest glimpse of his face showed nothing but fear as he ran toward the nearest console, futilely grasping for a Dark Rider bent over the console closer to the front of the screen. Its fingers stabbed slowly but surely at the buttons.

". . . _let them activate the-_"

The Dark Rider turned toward the man, its cape and arm sweeping out as if to embrace him. It never said a word.

"_-barrier_."

He ran into it and became obscured as the Dark Rider pivoted, its cape billowing out to cover them both even as they both fell across the console.

"_Don't let it-_"

The screen fizzed, jumped and then cut out entirely, taking everything else with it.

A stunned silence pervaded over the sector for a few seconds. It wasn't clear where the first noise came from, perhaps high above or in a place closer to where they all were standing. But it started small and became larger, a rolling howl that pressed toward them, the march of stamping panicked feet, of voices calling for aid to sources that would never assist.

"Go, go, go," Logan shouted, his insistence this time buffered with a violent push that sent Solo staggering several feet down the corridor. He paused for a second, turning back just in time to see the first body fall from the heights, followed by a rain of debris. A distant but minor explosion caused a breeze to sway.

Logan exhaled loosely, danced back a few steps before turning and running to follow the others. They had taken shelter in a side corridor, the light dim inside and the metal threatening to corrode.

He came down near them, the hollow and jagged roars of the sector coming in right on his heels. Solo had his laser out but kept it pointed toward the floor. His expression was grim. The Insepton's might have been but with his face it was impossible to tell. His long fingers were intertwining and flexing more than usual in what could have been a sign of anxiety.

"Well," Logan said, his gaze flicking over each one of them in turn, "what exactly do we do next?"

"The plan hasn't changed." For the first time the Insepton sounded out of breath. "Get back to Solo's ship and leave the port. We cannot linger any longer."

Laser whined in tandem down the hall as the riot spilled out, a bucket kicked across the floor and spraying its boiling contents over every exposed surface. The dead screen stared over it all, even though Solo expected the final image of the man being swallowed by the Dark Rider to be burned into it. More typical sounds of violence could be heard as well, fists on bone, faces against metal, impacts vying with impacts.

"I didn't think we were exactly lingering before," Solo murmured, staring intently at the screen. His fingers were tapping a frantic rhythm against the wall.

Logan sensed his unease. "What is it?"

"The last thing he said." His voice was a small stream of implied words. The rhythm came even faster, varying in cadence. "Something about it . . ."

"It was about a barrier," Logan prompted.

_Faster_. "It hardly matters." The Insepton was watching them both with separate eyes and seemed ready to drag them down the corridor. "The port is clearly beginning to erupt into chaos. We need to get away from here as soon as we can before we're caught up in it."

"We're already caught," Solo shot back tonelessly. _Faster and faster_. "But what he said, about the barrier, about . . ." his voice trailed off. _And faster and_.

"Solo," and the alien's voice held a sharp anger finally, "it is not relevant to our-"

_And stop_. The cessation halted the Insepton. "Oh yes, I think it is." Solo stood up slowly, his one hand tracing the smoothness of the wall, his gaze rising toward the ceiling.

"What?" Logan ventured out a step into the wider area. Flashes of broken prismatic light kept arcing further down the sector, once in a while permeated by a sound that could have been a scream. He looked upwards as well. "What is it?"

"Look." With the hand holding the laser, he indicated a spot far above. The glass that domed the ceiling was still intact, giving a uninhibited view of space and the depthless gallery of stars that surrounded every known surface. "Can't you see it?"

Logan narrowed his eyes and for a second he thought he did, a strange colorless haze that appeared over the stars like the blanketed corrosion of a radio signal, all the waves stained with shattered light and flung out in a sheet over the entire area.

"You bastards." The smile on Solo's face held no humor. "You miserable brilliant _bastards_." Wearily he ran his hands over his face. "We're not going anywhere right now. Not for a while."

"What are you talking about?" the Insepton demanded. A shadow passed overhead, a clunky ship floating by, seeming to gain velocity as it went. Solo licked dry lips and watched it go, his eyes tracking every motion.

"In emergency circumstances," he said without looking away, "the port has defense mechanisms in place." The ship banked, as if preparing for a jump by gaining speed. "If necessary they can throw a field around the entire area." It went across again, even quicker this time and something in Solo's eyes suggested he was counting off seconds. His lips moved but no words came out.

"What the hell does that _mean?_" Logan asked.

"It means," as the ship raced away, "that right now an energy barrier has been thrown around the entire port. We're completely sealed. Nothing can get in . . ."

Without warning the ship shimmered and the front of it appeared to flatten, just for a second.

". . . and nothing gets out."

The placid sky erupted and the entire sector drowned in a bright light.

* * * * *

The Insepton was the first to react, whirling away from the silent carnage above. Chunks of metal were raining down onto the glass ceiling, forcing vague tremors that could be felt in the walls and perhaps even underfoot. It looked so impersonal that one forgot that there had been people once inside.

"No, no," it said, walking a bit down the narrowed corridor so that it's voice echoed as something indented and pale. "There has to be a way around it. We are not trapped here. It goes around the entire port?"

"Yeah," Solo replied, tearing his gaze away from the view above with an effort. He leaned against the corner, hands in his pockets and watching the Insepton. "We're completely encased. That was the whole point of it."

The Insepton swore in what might have been its own language. "We are not _trapped_ here," it said again, its fingers pressed against the wall as it might tear a hole in the metal itself. Grab hold of space and drag its destination here through sheer will and strength. "I will not get this close and be blocked. That will not happen."

"How long can they sustain that thing?" Logan asked, staring at the ballet of slow descending wreckage. "It's got to take a lot of energy to keep that up there."

Solo shrugged. The piercebursts of laser fire punctuated his pause, beams that never stopped seeking. "I have no idea. Depending on what kind of generator they're using, it could be hours." He gave Logan a suspicious look. "You thinking of waiting it out?"

"Just seeing what our options are."

"It's an idea," the Insepton added. "The stormtroopers and the Dark Riders may keep each other occupied with skirmishes and we can lay low until the barrier goes down."

"I like that," Solo said. "Right now they're going to spend more time shooting at each other than spending time trying to find us." He glanced around even as a small crowd ran past them in a mass, their voices mingling into a new kind of language. It was unclear if they were chasing or being pursued and their ricocheting calls gave no hint. "We just need to find some place to lay low."

"I know places." The Insepton seemed to find a new eagerness again. "The port has many areas that are not well traveled, staying hidden will not be a problem."

"The only problem will be getting there without being seen. But I think we can manage that. We've been lucky so far." Solo clapped his hands together. "Let's do that and stay the hell out of sight and maybe we've got a chance of making it out of here in one piece. Logan, how's that sound to-"

He stopped, seeing the man still staring out at the ceiling, the stars blocked by piles of debris, casting shadows that seemed to eat away at every known surface. The screen was pockmarked with random laser burns but the darkness of it seemed seared holding forever its last image.

"Hey, did you hear what I-"

"Yeah," Logan said without turning. "And I'm telling you now it ain't going to work."

Solo held himself still. "Care to elaborate?"

"You know the reasons as much as I do." Logan pivoted with deliberate precision, somehow eye level with Solo in that moment. "The stormtroopers, they're nothing, they'll bumble around all day and nothing will come of it. All they got on their side is numbers." A few steps closer and they were inches apart. "But these other ones, they're something different. They're hunters, and they're not going to stop."

"What are you saying?"

"What I said. They're looking for you, they know you're in the port somewhere." His eyes flickered sideways to glance down the corridor, as if they might be there already. "And they got no problem killing everyone else in this place if it makes the job easier. You saw them, anyone not you is just in the way." Logan scratched at the side of his face. "The longer you hide, the more the body count is going up. Think you can live with that?"

"Don't you dare," Solo hissed. He stabbed at Logan with one finger, coming close without touching. The man never budged. "Don't put those lives on my head. I'm just trying to stay alive here. We all are."

Logan held his hands up. "Hey, I ain't judging. I've done enough in my life that I'm not too proud of to tell someone otherwise. A man's got to do what he thinks is best."

The Insepton merely watched the exchange, its eyestalks barely moving.

"I didn't start this." Solo said it almost as a protest.

"But do you want to end it?"

"You want to rush in and hit everyone, is that it?" Solo suddenly shouted at him, lunging toward him but stopping just short. "Is that your damn reply to everything, just keep beating on things until they stop moving?"

"Careful, Solo," Logan said, a growl underscoring his words. "This isn't about me."

Solo stared him down without flinching. "You want to keep barreling into people in the hopes that it'll get us somewhere, fine. If that's how you want to solve this, fine. But don't expect to drag the rest of our corpses along with you."

Logan shrugged offhandedly. "Hey, I'm with you on this. As I said, we're just going through options." He turned his head to the side and spit on the floor, as if ejecting a lingering foulness. "But let's think about this. The Empire's stuck outside the barrier, so we won't have to worry about any more of them."

"They'd be useless anyway," the Insepton chimed in. Both men looked at it, as if they had forgotten it was there. "They have no one to coordinate movements down here, with their ground commanders taken out. Disorganized as they are, they won't have any effectiveness. They'll either entrench to await further orders or engage in losing battles with the Dark Riders."

"Right." Logan nodded but it wasn't clear how much he actually agreed with the alien. "The Dark Riders are the big problem now. We don't know how many there are . . ." he turned to the Insepton. "Can they get through the barrier?"

The Insepton sort of rippled, perhaps its version of a shrug. "I have no idea, all I know about them is due to legends or rumors."

"And how much of that has been true so far?" Solo asked.

"Quite a bit, as it turns out."

"Hm." Logan kicked at the ground, frowning. "So we can't assume that more aren't joining the ones that are here. We _can _hide and let them take everyone else out, but the thing is with that . . ." he turned away, cracking a knuckle.

"You want to call me a coward, just _do_ it, pal-"

"I'm not finished," Logan said mildly. "We think we have time on our side, but we don't. The longer this goes on, the worse it gets. What's the one bit we're all missing here, that no one has mentioned?"

"We've already discussed your reckless disregard for your own safety," Solo said, crossing his arms.

Logan actually laughed at this, coarse and quick. "No. Our ticket out of here."

Solo's eyes widened slightly. "The _Falcon?_"

"He's right," the Insepton said after a moment. "The stormtroopers would not venture into the Comout's sector to retrieve it, but the Dark Riders have no such compunctions."

"And one found it already," Logan added darkly.

Solo stared at both of them in turn, merely blinking for a few seconds without speaking. "All right," he said, eventually. He had both his hands flat behind him against the wall. Taking a deep breath, he stared briefly at the ceiling.

Logan watched him carefully. "All right?"

His gaze shot back to Logan so quickly that his eyes seemed to quiver. "What are we going to do, then?"

There should have been a bit of triumph in Logan's return glance but it only held a somber regard. "That barrier's got to come down. One way or the other. You know this."

"Yeah," Solo replied dully.

"It is probably powered by the port generators but we can't shut those down without risking shutting down the entire port." The Insepton appeared to be sketching a map on the wall with one finger. "And any actions resulting from that might cause a rupture in the port's integrity. None of us would like to be present for that circumstance."

"I don't think anyone wants to be around for the current circumstance," Logan muttered. "What about that room we saw? What was that all about?"

"That's got to be inside Port Control," Solo said, his eyes staring at a space that neither of them occupied. "It's in the central sector. All the functions are maintained from there."

Logan stared at his hand, rubbing the top of it with a thumb. "Then," he said, glancing at them, "I think we know where we're going next."


	5. For the Cleanest Cut

Full title: For the Cleanest Cut Tear on the Perforations

I never bothered drawing a map of the port, so if the layout seems to make no sense, that's probably because it doesn't. Throwing my characters against this lot was fun, and this gave me a chance to try to answer that age-old question of whether adamantium can be cut with a light-sabre. Although my swords really aren't light sabres. Honest.

* * *

* * * * *

Moving, they set out, clambering against the spacious sprawl of the port. Moving through sectors bent and burned, the smoke of swept battles curling as if trying to find a solid place to cling. Moving, past charred shadows that screamed to stop a moment that had already gone by. Moving through the clamorous emptiness, their footsteps acting as thundercracked clangs no matter how carefully they walked. The port was gripped by a trembling pause, the engines of idling ships all gone quiet in their bays. Solo never realized how ever-present a noise it was until the clampdown occurred and it felt like a kind of death. The port survived by the constant influx and efflux of passerbys and traders and professional wanderers. Without their motions, it was simply a hunk of metal floating in space, waiting to finally fall apart.

In every distance they heard the clattering shouts of fighting, always in the next sector over. They would find the spoor of such events laid out in the artful chaos of wreckage, discarded lasers, smoldering equipment, the occasional body. Solo couldn't be sure if they were extraordinarily lucky, Logan was letting him take the lead but at times might have been subtly steering them in other directions. PortCom rested in the center of the structure and all roads eventually led there. It was just a matter of finding which road would get them shot at the least.

He took them via routes both well-travelled and less so. Past the murmuring hydroponics of the Gissa Collective, where the snarled plants lay ensnared in their own dreams of growth and perhaps rested oblivious to all other matters. Through the jagged metalscapes of guilded Artisans, who were constantly striving to produce works so sharp that it might cut through the veil that covered the Universe. A disused sector held a lone Flotesti, its airsack punctured and the being brought low. But the single eye followed them as they went by and it cajoled them with anecdotes of rumors of deals it might have heard, once upon a time. It never for a second belabored its predicament. Racing through the spongiform hives of the Berthens, their footsteps crafting no sound, although every vibration was reflected in the wide watching eyes in their tiny faces. Mouths opened to sound alarms, a series of blinking holes, but nothing was allowed to escape. All the sectors were less than they were and somehow more. The Shadow Marketplace, a pale copy created from negative light sealed in the glass sectors underfoot, where analogues of the port inhabitants reenacted the day's actions in clockwork precision, but out of step from each other in order to investigate other potentials. Slow small palaces erected on opposite walls, growing toward each other in battles meant to last centuries, taunts hurled by men answered by grandchildren, and further. Their presences were no more noticed than the whispers of passing clouds. Stepping carefully amongst the empty desolation of the Gilkilner sector, who would burst from their bodies in the form of radio waves when subjected to stresses. Their pulsing screams ricocheting around the hollows in fuzzes of conflicting static as they tried to recontain themselves.

It was some time after that when the three of them came about the first blockade.

"Wait," Solo said, holding up a hand and forcing the rest of them back a step. "Looks like we got company." From their vantage point it appeared that the floor had been torn up and other debris gathered in a pile that stretched across one of the choke points leading deeper into the port. At least five lasers were aimed in their direction and Solo could just make out the white tops of stormtrooper helmets.

"How close are we?" the Insepton asked, peeking around his legs.

"The central zone is just through that corridor," Solo said, running the map through his head again. He had forgotten how large this place really was, it seemed like they were adding new sectors all the time, almost on a whim. "That must be why they're blocking it off, to keep everyone else from getting in."

The Insepton made a sort of coughing noise. "Is there any other way around?"

"Not a quick one. We'd have to go out and try one of the other main corridors. And who knows what they have blocking those." He slid down the wall until he was in a crouching position. Near him, Logan was regarding the barrier with his typical piercing stare, as if he might chase them away with a look. "No, we can get through this. We just need a distraction." Suddenly, he blinked and smiled slowly. "And that would be _you_, son."

The Insepton twitched. "Is this an actual plan, or are you hoping to simply throw me out there in the hopes I'll improvise something useful?"

"It's not like that, listen." Solo was speaking quickly. "You're the only one of us they don't know for sure . . . we can use that. You go up there, act as an alien in distress, and in the meantime Logan and I will sneak around and jump them. There's only five of them there and he can take at least four." He glanced over at the other man to see his reaction but Logan was still engaged in studying the stormtroopers. The weapons were pointed ominously in their directions and Solo wanted to shift positions so they weren't so much in the line of fire. But they were okay so far.

"My race isn't that common on the port, they might notice."

"Trust me, pal, they didn't get the guide book or the grand tour. Aliens are aliens to them. You'll be fine."

"Unless they have shoot to kill orders for anyone approaching them."

Solo sighed, exasperated. "Would you like us to shoot at you first, so it looks more realistic? Listen, this will work, you've just to _sell_ it. Act like you believe it and they'll believe it, too. Trust me."

"And if they don't believe it?"

"By that time, Logan and I will have run up and done all the dirty work." Solo rubbed his hands on his thighs, shifting his weight. "Look, it's either this or we dash in there with all guns blazing and take our chances. And about the only person who likes doing that is our buddy here, isn't that right-"

What made him turn around, he didn't know. "Logan?" But the man was gone.

"He started sneaking toward the barrier about the middle of your speech," the Insepton noted helpfully.

"Oh, great, just great." Solo stood up abruptly, unholstering his weapon and checking its charge. "You weren't going to mention that?"

The Insepton reached for its own laser. "Being that your plan thus far consisted of putting only me in mortal danger, I wasn't about to stop an alternate method."

Solo swore under his breath. Even when things were going wrong, they somehow managed to go _more_ wrong. "Okay, tell me which way he went, we'll try to go the other way and flank them. I don't want him taking all the flak here if we can avoid it."

"Why not?" The question was strangely honest, forcing Solo to stop for a second.

"Because . . ." he searched for words that he wasn't sure he knew. "Because it's not right, okay?" He spat it out as an offhand barb without looking at the alien. Something in his face suggested he wanted to explain further, but fortunately a clatter up ahead captured both their attentions.

"Hey," came the familiar from behind the barrier, its speaker unseen, "you guys may want to come over here." One of the helmets peeking overhead was tilted at an oblique angle and seemed to be staring right at Solo.

"Is it safe?" Solo called out, still searching for cover even as he stepped out cautiously into the open. The troopers weren't making any sound but Solo could picture Logan intimidating the hell out of them with those damn claws of his. Stormtroopers were brave because no one ever fought back but if you showed a little bit of hard resistance than their orders weren't prepared to deal with that.

"Sort of." There was a strange note in Logan's voice. "Just get over here."

Still feeling exposed with the guns pointing at him, Solo and the alien made their way over to the impromptu barricade. Trying to stay low, he came around the side of it, wondering how Logan could frighten them so much that the troopers refused to even look at him.

The stocky shape of the man revealed himself. His claws were still sheathed, his hands were on his hips. He could see the troopers all lined up against the far wall, just as they had been before. "What the hell," Solo said, "did you catch them while they were sleeping-"

He halted, feet scraping on the metal floor. "Oh."

The troopers were there and they were looking over the top of the barrier but there was a slight disconnect between their heads and the rest of their bodies. Severed neatly, the heads were arranged on top of the barricade, while the rest lay sprawled below. Suddenly, the quiet of the sector took on a new menace.

"Three guesses who did this," Solo finally said, trying to keep his tone light.

"You need that many?" Logan said, bending down to examine the nearest body. "Can't tell how recent this is with all the armor on but . . ." before anyone could say anything the claws were out, carving a jagged square into the trooper's suit with a surgeon's eye. Logan tore off the piece, casting it to the side and putting his hand inside the suit.

"Still warm," he muttered, glancing up at them.

"Unless the armor retained their body heat," the Insepton pointed out. It had scooted over and was standing on the opposite side of the armor. "A better way to probably determine the time is through stiffening of the muscles, that should not depend on-"

"Guys!" Solo said, forcing both of them to stare in his direction. Solo gave them a baffled look. "Is this _really_ the most important thing right now?"

Logan and the Insepton exchanged looks. "Right," Logan said, wiping his hands on his pants as he stood up. "We can determine how close they are some other time. It's probably not important." Narrowing his eyes, he stared past Solo, deeper into the corridor behind them. "And anyway, we're probably better off asking the one still alive down there."

"What?" Solo asked, spinning around.

"In that pile of rubble," Logan said calmly, striding past him. Indeed down the hall there was a heap of metal that looked more arranged the more Solo stared at it. "His heart has been going a mile a minute ever since we showed up. Among other things." He reached the pile with a few rapid strides, and yanked the top of it aside in a brisk motion.

Immediately a gun was pointed at his face. "You may want to work on reducing the mouth-breathing, bub," Logan said casually. His hand whisked in a low arc and suddenly the front half of the gun was clattering to the floor. "Perhaps we should start this over."

By this point Solo had joined him, his own laser aimed at the trooper.

"Please . . . don't kill me," the stormtrooper said, sounding very small amidst the crisscrossed wreckage surrounding him. He was already raising his hands.

"Well that all depends," Solo said, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall next to him, crossing one leg over the other at the ankle. "Were you hiding there for safety . . . or for an ambush? Think carefully now before you answer."

"Why wait for an answer?" Logan wondered outloud. He had taken one of the spears of metal and was casually running one of his claws along it. "He would have shot us on sight if we gave him the chance." Slivers of metal were falling to the floor as easily as drifting leaves. For a second the only noise was the gentle _sssh_ of his shaving. "What's he know that makes him worth talking to?"

"I was hiding. _Hiding_!" The words came out of the trooper's mouth so fast that they could have left lacerations. He was looking back and forth from Logan to Solo, as if trying to find an appeal that just wasn't present. "They had sent me to scout around the area and when I came back, I saw them." His voice had taken on a choked, gasping quality. "There was only two of them, they just walked in and they were . . . they were so _fast_. I saw some shooting and . . . they just deflected the lasers. And then they . . ." he stopped, looking at the ground, not seeing anyone else.

"So you didn't help?" Logan asked, his voice soft and betraying nothing. But it hit the trooper like an electric shock.

"N-no, they didn't see me, they-"

"You had the element of surprise."

"They would have _killed _me."

Logan's expression said all there was to say.

"And now we are." He took the shaving, now sharpened to an almost invisible point and prodded against the trooper's armor, as if testing the integrity of it. The stormtrooper flinched away violently, his helmet banging against the wall as he drew back. "So instead of dying while trying to save your comrades, you're going to die cowering in a pile of rubble. Is that a fair trade?"

"Don't do this." The trooper was looking at Solo as he spoke and there seemed to be a kind of plea emanating from the opaque visor. "You don't have to do this."

"You're begging to the wrong person." Solo remembered the stormtroopers, remembered being told that they were all the same person, grown in vats and churned out by the masses. Faceless and endless, who would miss one? Bred to be soldiers, their purpose was to conquer and kill and get killed. "The only difference between me and him is the _how_."

"You want something," the soldier suddenly said. The wreckage made a loud squeal as he shifted under it, attempting to stand. Logan's claws hovering inches from his throat held him in place but he was still able to speak. "If you were going to kill me already you would have done it, so you must want information." There was a certain undercurrent of cockiness under the fear.

"If you say so." Three claws rammed through the soldier's leg as if pressing into soft clay. The trooper's back arched and he clutched at Logan's hand, his voice disintegrating into a snarled scream. Even Solo looked surprised. Logan's voice never rose above an even tone. "Thing is, we're going in anyway, so we don't really _need_ your info. So don't go thinking that you have something we need. All you are is a bonus, bub, and bonuses are optional." The claws retracted, although flecks of blood dotted Logan's knuckles. "Got me?"

The trooper's shout trailed off into rapid panting, his hands going near his leg without actually touching it.

Solo cast Logan a warning glare, which Logan returned coolly. Bending down slightly to reach the trooper, he asked, "What's the situation past this? What were you boys guarding?"

"PortCom is cut off," the soldier said, staring at the ceiling. He appeared to be shivering. It was easy to imagine his face contorted in pain. "Nobody can get in or out. The place is stuffed with whoever the hell these guys are. We haven't gotten any communications since it all went down."

"What are the Dark Riders doing?" It was the Insepton this time, its voice snapping out like an insistent wire.

"Sweeps." The soldier seemed to notice him for the first time and it made him tense even further. "At random they've been coming out and just slaughtering anyone they find in a certain radius."

"How many?"

"I don't _know_," the soldier nearly shouted. "We've really been doing our best to stay the hell out of it. We've just been trying to hold our position until we get some better orders but the . . . the sweeps have been expanding. They're working their way outwards."

"You're just biding your time." Logan was rubbing his hands together, fingers interlaced. "You're waiting until someone else solves this mess for you."

"Hey, I was _in_ there when it went down." The soldier's body stiffened, and he came close to leaning in forward on Logan. "We barely got out with our skins intact. It was as close to hell as there's been."

"And it's just them still in there?" Solo was staring down the corridor, brow furrowed.

"Hell, I don't know. The place was jammed with port staff, technicians, a bunch of our guys were in there. We didn't have time to take a headcount, maybe some of them didn't make it out. What happened to them after that, I have no idea."

"It's possible," the Insepton mused. "The Dark Riders may not know how to maintain it without assistance."

"They strike me as quick learners," Solo said dryly.

"Quick enough," the Insepton agreed. "Which means we should not waste any more time here."

"Wait!" the soldier said, his arm grabbing Solo's. "You're going in there? You actually are?"

Solo glanced at his companions before answering. "Yeah," he said slowly. There was a ghost of a smile on his face. "This isn't my idea of a vacation spot. It's best we be moving on and the barrier's kind of in our way. So we're taking our complaints to the top."

The trooper laughed at that, harsh and brief, metal rattling down a narrow pipe. "Then you should know this. The control room's on the top floor, in the central spire."

"Old news, pal." Solo yanked his arm away and began to stand up. "Now if you'll excuse us . . ."

"_Listen_ . . ." and something in his voice made Solo stop. "Inside there, those guys somehow shut most of the main power down. The gravshafts aren't working right, one team tried to come down and they somehow slammed two lifts together. If you're crazy enough to do this, you have to use the stairwells. Nothing else is going to work."

Solo, now standing up completely, stared at him for a few seconds. Then, nodding brusquely, he simply said, "Thanks," and started to walk away. Logan was already moving, slinking down the corridor, which appeared to be widening at its far end. The main sector was probably ahead, as well as their destination.

A shrill blast caused both Solo and Logan to spin around.

The soldier was sprawled back against the wall, arms thrown out wide. A neat hole was drilled into the center of his helmet, with a blackened charmark spreading out like the points of a star on the metal directly behind him.

The Insepton was already putting his laser back.

"What was that?" Solo's voice was quiet but grew in intensity as he bore down on the alien. "What the hell were you doing?"

"We couldn't risk him warning the others," the Insepton's response was diffident.

"You didn't have to _kill_ him."

The alien stared back at him coldly and placidly. "He would have bled to death from the wound Logan gave him. It was a mercy, in a way."

"No," Logan said flatly. Standing back, the shadows draped over him in triangular shapes, so that only a sliver of his mouth was visible. His eyes caught the dark and reflected it back. "He wouldn't have. The suit would have sealed the wound. I noticed with the bodies back there, it closed over their necks." His arms were held loosely at his sides but there was a whiplash tension in his frame. He could leap forward at any second and there would be no warning.

The Insepton said nothing.

Solo hissed out his next words. "I will tell you this now, as a warning. You shoot _any_one who isn't trying to kill us and I will throw you out into space the first chance I get. Am I _clear_?" He was eye level with the alien, a wave towering over it from a kneeling position.

"Shall I wait for your order then to save us?" the Insepton asked blandly.

"_Don't_ test me on this."

The Insepton made a trilled chittering. "I see. Perhaps you'd like to stick your weapon in my face to accentuate your point?"

"I do that, and it'll be right before I blast your head off." Solo's voice was shaking slightly. Logan was watching him carefully but didn't intercede.

"Then do it now," the alien answered matter-of-factly, sounding bored. One hand reached out, surprisingly quick and strong for being so thin and wrapped its arm around Solo's wrist. It brought his arm closer, until the laser was nearly pointed at its face. "I have told you before, I am not afraid to perish and I am committed to this course. And I will see this course through until the end, Solo, no matter what it takes. Am _I_ clear?" It almost seemed to be fighting with Solo to gain control of the trigger, as if daring him to make the final move. "You are merely trying to end this so you can go back to your mercenary lifestyle. The development of my race has been paused since before your people could think properly. We _need_ this." Solo was breathing rapidly, his arm trembling. "Do not seek to put limitations on what is required here. If you think you will not be okay with that, then shoot me now and save us from both from what will come later."

Neither of them moved for nearly a minute. The only sound was Solo's shallow breaths echoing in the narrow confines of the corridor. Finally, the Insepton tilted its head to the side and said, "You do not have to decide now if you find the choice difficult." Releasing his arm with a violent shake, it slid past him, saying, "But you should know where to find me, when the moment calls for it."

It skittered down the hallway without another word, vanishing into the gloom ahead. Solo stayed where he was for a few seconds, staring at the spot where the Insepton had been standing and not speaking.

Logan had started taking a few steps toward him when Solo stood up suddenly, letting out a long exhalation and holstering his weapon.

"You all right?" Logan asked, standing so that he could only see Solo's profile.

Solo, pressing his lips together tightly, didn't answer.

"Listen," Logan ventured, "if we need to we can take care of-"

The other man spun so suddenly that even Logan was surprised, rocking back a half-step. "Let's just _go_," he snapped, not seeing anything and stalking away.

* * * * *

They caught up with the Insepton at the very edge of the corridor, where it suddenly truncated and blew open into the vast open central sector. The rattle of air cycling vents appeared to be everywhere, creating a sparse but sporadic breeze that held within it a slight metallic taste, perhaps a sign of it breaking down. Broken maintenance vehicles littered the area, sliced and severed and crumbling, as if they had all decided to fall apart at the same time right where they had been standing. Far off a safety droid kept attempting to put out a fire that would either not go out, or kept reigniting.

"I've seen no movements in the last few minutes," the Insepton said when they reached them, as usual dispensing with preamble. "Either the Dark Riders are out hunting, or they have pulled back inside."

_Inside_ referred to the large spire that had stamped down from above the sky and planted itself into the center of the port. Spiked and compressed, it loomed over everything, thousands of tiny lights blinking on and off on its surface, a certain smoothness that was deceptive at the wrong distance. Up close, it might have been jagged, a million small pieces fitting together to create the upswept mass. The body of it was narrow but as it reached its summit the building flared outward until it became a stylized _T_ shape.

Solo's eyes scanned the intervening area, stopping when he saw a small pile of bodies sprawled some distance away. Even from here they didn't look complete. "So far that's a good thing."

"Better if they're inside," Logan said, curling around the corner to get a more precise look around. "We'll be going to _them_." He knelt down, his fingers sifting through what might have been ash. "If they ain't in there, we go in, we shut that thing down and we'll find ourselves surrounded when they get back."

"Either way," the Insepton noted, "we have to go in."

Logan took a few steps out, staring at the building as if sizing it up. "And this control center, it's on the top floor?"

Solo stood a pace behind him, near his shoulder. "That's what the man said."

Logan grinned without laughing. "I'm not surprised. Nothing is ever on the ground floor."

"You talk like you've fought your way up buildings before."

Logan shrugged. "I've done my share. I think I like it better, you don't have to think, you just keep going up until there's no more _up_ to find." He massaged his wrist. "There's a momentum to it." His eyes went somewhere else briefly, and he added, almost too quickly to stop, "It used to happen to us so often, we came up with a tactical name for it. One of the girls, she found out the tallest mountain where I'm from has the same name as me and told everyone else. They thought it was hilarious, the bunch of them, and every time we'd have to go up someone would always ask if we were going to my summit. If we were going all the way. And as if on cue, someone else would comment, _how long could it take, look at him._" He leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, his gaze locked loosely on the building's heights. "Look at him," he murmured, lips barely moving. He gave a small laugh, a mayfly's giggle. "It always broke the tension."

Then he seemed to rouse himself from whatever reverie he had started to fall into, darting away from the wall and nearly plunging into the no-man's land that surrounding the PortCom building. "Come on," he said without turning around. "Let's get this over with."

The three of them move quickly but carefully, doing their best to use whatever cover could be found, whether it be the twisted vomit of discarded metal, or impromptu shields thrust up from the ground. There was little to be found, though, and at any second they expected to be spotted, an alarm raised. Solo's back tensed every time he thought he heard the deep-throated humming of the Dark Riders' teleporters, but nothing came. They were incredibly exposed in their position, if the lights had been at their full brightness theirs shadows would have been thrown up against far walls, distant mimics over a mile high. Instead they ran in near silence, somehow slipping between the layers of skin in the world. Scars were carved in the floor, blood congealed and dried in as many colors as existed, final howls seemed to echo around the area, trapped and keening. Glass panels set in the ceiling showed the now familiar starscape but it was a trick and a feint. The stars might be out there, but they were unreachable by any means. Placed too closely to ignore but far enough that it could be part of another dream finally bleeding through.

The front doors were half-shattered and partly torn off. Three bodies lay thrown about, neat holes drilled in their backs. All their faces were to the floor and Solo had no desire to turn them over. The edges of the shriven metal glittered sharply in what light remained. Everything was so neat and clean when it was put together and it wasn't until someone decided to break it that you realized how ugly it could be, when just one element went out of place.

"They were burst outward," the Insepton said, examining where the hinges used to be.

"Makes sense," Logan said. "They teleported inside."

"But why break them? All they had to do was seal it, they should have had that capability. If they could teleport in and out . . ."

"Chances are the port authorities did this," Solo noted, going up to the giant slit made in the building. The sickly lights inside framed him without touching his outline. "Trying to get out, they blew the doors open."

"Or the Dark Riders did it, to make them think they had a fighting chance." Logan came next to him. "To give some sport to the chase." He looked at the bodies that were scattered about. "They didn't make it too far."

"We'll get further." Solo's voice held a conviction that only came from telling yourself a fact over and over again. Without a glance back he stepped inside, the building seeming to open wider to accept him.

"Technically we are going in the opposite direction of everyone else, so in theory we'll never be able to get as far. The best we can do is reach the origin point." The Insepton went in on Solo's heels and immediately veered to the left, its feet tapping regularly.

"Now he decides to become a comedian," Solo muttered under his breath. Logan snorted suddenly but as he was still standing at the entrance Solo didn't think there was any way the man could have heard.

They were in a lobby, a darkened receptionist's desk the first object that greeted them. A large chunk was carved out of it, all too cleanly, lined up perfectly with the otherwise untouched chair. One corner of the room held banks of computer terminals, the screens still flickering with power but unable to show any images. The back wall held the gravlifts, the doors shut but a thin light trickling out from under the cracks. One of the displays seemed to indicate that one of them was rapidly shooting up from one floor to another without bothering to stop. A whooping alarm was sounding from somewhere deep in the building, an infant's cry that everyone refused to answer.

The stairs were off to the side, thin and curling, going up a flight and turning so that nothing beyond it could be seen from their vantage point.

"Up, then, gentlemen?" was all Solo said. And the three of them did. Solo had taken out his laser as soon as they had entered the building and the Insepton had armed his as well. Logan walked even with Solo, his posture bent, seemingly ready to spring at any moment.

They found the first body on the third landing, jammed into the corner as if he had been thrown down. There was a deep red wound sliced into his neck and another crimson slash drawn across his stomach. But it was the shot to the head that appeared to have killed him, a neat eye punched just off-center on his forehead. The gun clutched in his hand told more of the story than it needed to.

"The concept of survivors isn't looking likely," Solo noted, bending down to examine the laser, prying it gently from the taut fingers. He was doing his best to avoid the man's still staring eyes. After checking it for power, he held it out to Logan. "Here, take this."

Logan didn't reach for it. "Why?"

"You going to stab everyone we run into?"

"I've done all right with it so far."

Solo grimaced. "Look, just take the damn laser. Because if you get in my way during a fight and I wind up shooting you in the back of the head, the next person you're going to skewer is _me_. And I'd like to avoid that."

Logan was looking at him with barely disguised humor. "You're serious about this." He had one foot on the stairs already and was starting to climb. The Insepton had gone ahead, either ignoring their argument or simply tired of it.

"Very." He was following after Logan, the second gun still in his hand. "Because this is going to end in a big fight, I've got a sense about these things. And from watching you fight it seems to me that when you get mad enough you start to get . . . indiscriminate."

"I've never stabbed anyone on my side." They had reached the next landing only to find that the stairs ended there. A white-suited technician lay crumpled against it, a dark smear traced down that wall like an arrow. A door straight ahead led into a broad room, from which they could see another set of stairs across that continued to lead upwards. The building was so far eerily silent, the hum of constant machines barely existing as background noise. This room was better lit, with pillars placed at even intervals and desks in between, all of it looking perfectly normal other than the sheer emptiness of it.

"Never?" Solo kept a step behind. He made the word incredulous, somehow.

Logan thought about it. "Nothing that anyone hasn't recovered from."

Solo rolled his eyes. "Great. That's real heartening, pal." The Insepton was at the new set of stairs, having turned back to watch them arrive. It was perhaps tapping one of its feet rapidly, a slight sign of impatience. When they came near it disappeared into the stairwell, its feet making small clatters on the steps.

Solo got ahead just as they reached the entrance to the stairwell. "All I'm saying is that there are times when up close and personal just isn't the right way to . . ." he trailed off as he noticed Logan staring across the room, his eyes narrowed. "What? What is it?"

"I don't know," Logan said, his voice evasive. "It might be-"

That's when the first shadow fell out of the opposite staircase, laying thick across the landing. It only lingered for a second as the banks of the lights in the room started going off row by row, drenching everything in darkness. A seeping gleam began to creep into their line of sight, that even the blackness shied away from.

"We've got company," Solo said.

Only Logan's eyes retained any of the brightness that used to be there. "Go," he said, in words snapped like shards.

"You're damn right we are but . . ." he had taken a step away before realizing that Logan was still in the entrance. "What the hell are you doing? Come on!"

"You need time and I'm no good with computers," Logan said. "This, though, I can take care of. Just get the hell up there."

"I am not leaving you down here by yourself with-"

"You want to argue or you want to finish this?" Logan bellowed, his voice massive in the stairwell's borders. Solo staggered backwards two steps, nearly falling up. "Besides," Logan added with a smile, "there's less chance of you shooting me this way."

Even Solo had to chuckle at that. "You better not die."

"Don't plan on," came the grim response. "You still owe me a paycheck. Now _go_." Prismatic colors were beginning to press into his location, oversaturations threatening all other hues. Logan stared into it without flinching.

Solo took the hint this time. "You finish this and you get up here with us, all right? You hear me?" Logan's only reaction was a crisp nod and Solo didn't wait for anything else. Starting to run up the stairs, he only glanced back once to see Logan step through the entryway and out of his sight.

"Well, _hello_," came a voice that he couldn't identify from beyond the room and before he could hear more he was out of range and gone.

* * * * *

The Insepton was already halfway up the next flight when Solo came charging up behind him. Turning slightly, it said, "Are we being followed, where is-"

"Buying us time!" Solo yelled. "Now go!" He swept past the alien, not even daring to look back behind to see if anyone was coming. He didn't know how long Logan could hold them off before he'd have to retreat. If the man was even going to retreat. He hoped that he had enough sense to know when to cut and run but there was a certain gleam in his eyes that suggested otherwise. He would go down swinging, or not go at all.

"There's something odd here," the Insepton said, falling into a galloping pace next to Solo. The two of them leapt over a pair of bodies slumped on the stairs, dropped there as if sleeping. "The Dark Riders have teleportation capabilities and we're on a fixed surface. They should have been able to drop themselves right into our midst, as they did on the ship."

"Maybe we can ask them when we run into more of them." There was another floor entrance and Solo approached it carefully, poking the tip of his laser out as if to test. Nobody reacted and the area was an empty as the others. Without waiting another second he dove up the next set of stairs, the Insepton trailing behind, still pondering its idea.

"Hm. Teleportation is still a new science for us, through rumors exist that the _forsgalai_ contains basic information on its mechanics. The concept isn't the difficult part, it's the implementation, you see."

Solo, on the next floor, was checking that hallway as well, laser held so that it was parallel to his cheek. "That's wonderful," he noted dryly. He tried not to think about how heavily he was breathing, or how Logan was doing downstairs. Instead, he tried to think of how many floors the place had. He wasn't happy when any number that he came up with.

This landing ended in a blank wall, forcing them once again to dash across the opposite room to find the next set. Solo suspected this was their way of discouraging invasions and making it harder to climb topside. And it was working, the constant back and forth wasn't impossible, but it was maddening. The lights up here were flickering, ghost signals sent to people who were no longer there, dropping them in and out of the shadows at random. The Insepton went pale and back into his usual tint, as if he might just fade out of existence if the lights went out entirely.

"Fragments exist suggesting that not one but two types of teleportation are in use," the Insepton continued conversationally. Solo merely grunted as they kept running, him taking the steps two at a time and finding to his dismay that the Insepton still had no trouble keeping up the pace.

"Do we really have to discuss this now?" He dove low around the next corner, his sense of danger setting off all kinds of alarm bells in his head. But it was simply more bodies in what looked to be a more organized form of defense. Computer banks had been torn out and set across the stairs to form a kind of barrier. One of the consoles had been neatly sliced in half and was still sparking. Scorch marks along the walls suggested that laser fire had been recent but the rest of the corridor was silent.

"When will we find a better time?" The Insepton gave a little hop, going up and over the nearest computer, using a body leaning against it was a small slide to get back down. Solo followed after slower, starting to think they were getting near the top. There were no sounds of pursuit behind them but the Dark Riders so far had been able to move fairly quietly. "Listen. Both kinds involve the dissolution of matter and its subsequent conversion into energy but you have to take into account that the Universe as we know it is divided into states of reality known as dimensions, all floating in the void near each other, with only tenuous connections between."

Solo only nodded, checking the bodies for a better kind of weapon than what he had. But none of them were equipped with more than the standard types. The larger lasers fired too slowly anyway and he suspected what they needed here was speed. "Right, that's fascinating."

"The conventional type allows for teleporting _inside_ a dimension, going from point to point within that block of reality. _However_ . . ." the Insepton had already moved past him, its voice curled into the constricted empty space, ". . . when moving from dimension to dimension, the transported person is limited to whatever point they have originally locked onto and won't be able to move beyond that."

At the next landing the stairs continued up but the rooms near it were dominated by large machines that were ominous in their quiet. Either sleeping or shut down, for some reason he imagined a series of eyes opening, angry gazes blazing out to see who the trespassers were, the infernal grinding of roaring engines returning to life. The first time he had stood inside a ship as it became live he had wanted to run out the airlock door, thinking it was about to explode. The old spacefarer had laughed at him, as well as the rest of the crew. _That's the echo of the big one,_ he had said, _the sound of the universe in motion. We're just tracing the path_. He had felt gravity for too long, he needed to get out there again and skip along the invisible roads, where direction wasn't a restriction of options but simply a choice of where you wanted to go.

"Don't you see?" The Insepton was walking almost sideways, the two of them barely fitting across the stairwell. "The Dark Riders are entering this dimension from another, their teleportation is limited to their entry point, they don't have conventional teleportation abilities, it's simply manual motion. Otherwise they would have found us by now."

"They _did_ find us," Solo said harshly, rounding on the Insepton, nearly forcing it up against the wall. "Logan is down there now making sure they don't get up to us. So you can please just shut the hell _up_ for a minute." He reached the next entryway into a room and slipped to the side, staying out of view. The stairs ended here and the area beyond opened up wider, stretching into other wings. Looming hulks of more silent machines could be seen, running from floor to ceiling and seeming to retain a certain amount of power even when stilled. More bodies could be seen in the room itself, haphazardly piled on top of one another as if thrown, but the dimness of the interior made it difficult to identify who or how many.

"Very well," the Insepton sniffed. It took a position on the opposite side of Solo. "But it may be a relevant point later and . . . what are you staring at?"

"Look," Solo said, indicating the wall across from them with his laser. "There's no stairs, just another door."

"Then . . ."

"End of the line. We're on the top floor. That must be the control room through there." Despite himself, a grin crossed his face. "So, you got a plan?"

* * * * *

_Okay, so let's go over the plan one more time._

"Did you think you wouldn't be discovered?" said the voice from the dark.

_Kill him. Then get the hell out of here_.

A pair of glowing eyes floated somewhere near him. With all the lights gone out it was hard to gauge distance and the voice kept drifting in and out, like it was tuning into a source that kept getting blocked. Logan was trying to remember if the Dark Riders all had different voices but as far as he could remember it was the same pitiless echo, toneless and yet imbued with a certain mocking.

_Sounds easy enough._

The whisper of a cape's breath slithered near him and Logan threw himself backwards, narrowing dodging hitting the wall even as he felt the Dark Rider's fist miss him by inches. By instinct he struck out with his claws but only found air, the being dancing just out of reach.

"You clamber around in your small clumsy explosions." The eyes bobbed again, smoothly darting forward. Logan was trying to judge where the body was based on the position of those eyes but it was defying all his efforts so far. "I can hear them now, stumbling upwards in the hopes that it might save them."

_But this bastard isn't playing along_.

A boot creased his stomach, sending him spinning off to the side. It didn't hurt him but the Dark Rider was getting too close. It was too dark in here, this was more than just the lights going out. His eyes were good enough to make out textures, the world reduced to grey contrasts, the rich contours that nobody else could see, a fuzzy focus that revealed new layers the longer he stared at it. The world was more than it was, people experienced it in their small ways and thought that's all there was. But colors existed without names and sounds beyond hearing blended into symphonies that were impossibly beautiful. If you never experienced it you would never know.

Feint. Feint. His fingers brushed against the wall, trying to figure out exactly what his boundaries were. How well could it see him? Logan ducked just in time to feel the air crinkle with a fist passing overhead. _Apparently very well._ His shoulder brushed against something solid and he threw himself forward, wishing he had been able to get a better look at the room before the lights went out. Were there any obstacles? He didn't see any but all the Dark Rider needed was a split second's advantage.

"You could simply run up the stairs, you know." Another snap as the cape passed by again, but the next strike didn't come. Logan got the impression they were circling each other, the Dark Rider seeking out vulnerabilities that Logan wasn't aware he had. _Easy. Easy. Don't rush in_. Part of him wanted to so badly, just dive into the fray and keep swinging until all resistance was gone. He could _feel_ the need for it rising within him, harder to fight the more the scrap went on. "Perhaps you'd even be able to outrun me."

It swept past him again, too close, the _smell_ of it reeking of lost childhood dreams and the resignation that nothing lasted forever. Of infants sobbing in empty rooms with no hope of reassurance to come, lovers staring out windows waiting for partners to come back, a sunny day that you knew with absolute certainty was going to be your last and the realization that you would never get another. _What are you?_ Logan wanted to ask, but didn't dare speak. It wanted him to, as a distraction. _You're not just some guy in weird armor._

This room needed lights, the darkness was too palpable, it was seeping into his lungs, his clothes, his pores. The Dark Rider was moving too silently, only making noise when it needed to. "Oh, but you won't, will you?" it cooed to him, its hand stabbing out at his face, too close, _too damn close_. He leapt back quickly, his claws lashing out to maybe slice the hand off but the Dark Rider had drawn it back and slipped away again. The eyes twinkled like corrupted stars, brought down low and diminished.

"You've got to make the noble sacrifice, don't you? You have to buy them time. But why?" This time he did hear its boots scrape across the floor, a too casual stroll. He did his best to hold himself still, but he was breathing too rapidly. He was not scared of this thing, it was merely a shadow. "They are not your friends, your friends are gone. They've left you out here, to forage on your own." A shuffle, a scrape. It was there and there and _there_. Logan traced slow circles on the floor, waiting. "What are you to them, a tool, maybe? A means to an end?"

_Please don't tell me that we're the same. I'm damn tired of that speech_. But it was behind him somehow, even though he could have sworn the eyes were still in front of him, a knee plunging into his back. It barely hurt him, his bones absorbed most of the shock, but it did knock him off balance. He rolled over, scrambling away even as he felt the Dark Rider drawing closer. The pinpricks of its sight seemed to hover everywhere as afterimages. It was playing with him, he knew that. It had all the time in the world and it was just toying with him.

"Less than that," it suggested cheerfully, casually. His cheek against the floor, every instinct telling him to _move_, he could feel the soft vibrations of its passage toward him. Its voice was coming down as a cloud, waves cannibalizing themselves in the wake of a horizon they'd never reach. That made no sense. That was the best description he had. "You were fashioned as a weapon, elegant and brutal. A device merely to be pointed and fired. Whatever you thought you once were, that stopped being true." The Dark Rider was bearing down on him and the world had become heavy, he was inside his own skeleton and he couldn't hold the weight up anymore. Maybe it wasn't speaking outloud, maybe it didn't have words.

"But the thing is with weapons . . ." it said, close as a whisper, just that razor lined space between thought and action, ". . . they do not survive their discharge, do they? To use them is to destroy them." Was that a glimmer of sharded light just peeking out from the voided zone of its belt? Were those rough seconds too soon slipping away? "What does that make you, then? Hm?"

Logan's lips pulled back into a snarl the Dark Rider couldn't possibly see. "Dangerous," was all he said, leaping out too fast to follow, his claws aimed right for the Dark Rider's legs.

* * * * *

"It looks abandoned." The Insepton was leaning into the room carefully, only the tip of its body protruding into the space. "We appear to be alone up here."

"For the moment," Solo noted grimly. He cast what had to be the tenth glance back down the stairs, waiting for shadows to come around the corner. Or for Logan to show up out of nowhere and scare the hell out of him again. Where was everyone? Pursuit hadn't followed them, so in theory Logan had to have been successful. But Logan hadn't arrived either, so who had won? He didn't think the man could have gotten lost, he didn't strike Solo as the type.

_Focus on the immediate problem, Han. _Shoving the thoughts out of his head, he crossed into the room, staying even with the wall, going all the way down so he could see up the side of the room. It still appeared empty, the huge machines the only occupants, the echoes of their former burbling engines laying slack on the air. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Insepton go in the other direction.

They both reached the door at the same time, neither encountering anyone along the way. "All right," Solo said, refusing to relax. "Let's see if we can get this over with." The double doors before them were huge, running from floor to ceiling and seemingly reinforced. Putting his hand against them, he could tell they were slightly warm and a definite hum could be felt through the thick metal.

"There's still power to the doors," he said, hunting about in the dimness for the control panel. Finding it, he tapped against it experimentally, rewarded with only a series of dull beeps. He tried another combination, this time faster. His face twisted in frustration as he tried again and again, the buttons playing out the opening notes to a dissonant choir, stopping and starting and bending but only lying severed in the air.

"Dammit!" he finally shouted, slamming his hand against the entire panel so that it erupted in one brutal squawk of noise. "It's locked, they've sealed the door from the inside."

"Who?" The Insepton was unable to reach the panel because of his height but had been watching Solo curiously.

"I don't know, the Dark Riders, I guess," Solo said irritably, resting his back against the door. "They might have locked it and teleported out to kill everyone else in the building. They can always cut their way back in. So much for your teleportation theory."

"We have no evidence to suggest that I am wrong," the Insepton answered, sounding slightly ruffled. It was beginning to pace around, following the contours of one of the monolithic machines that dominated the room, like some giant electron trying to find its way back into the atom. "But there must be a way in, Solo. We did not get this far for no reason."

"I know, I _know_," Solo said, trying not to stare at the entryway, not wanting to see if anyone was coming. This was not how it ended, with him stuck inside this hunk of metal, unable to ride out again. He couldn't feel movement down here, the streaming whirl of a planet's rotation, quick enough to take your breath away, meant nothing to him. He wanted to see the stars slide by and watch the distance become motion and the motion become action. That was how it needed to be, you stood on the ground and it was just static, all your running designed to mimic what was out there in its purest form. Distilled kinetics and roving mathematical arcs, everything else was just tracing. Like the Insepton, roaming distractedly around the room, trying to find orbits in objects that failed to have gravity, its motions merely mockery, maddening and flailing.

It was driving him nuts in its constant nervous circling. Just round and round the big machines when they needed to be lances, not ovals. "Hey," he said, two fingers pressing against the bridge of his nose, "could just stay still . . ." _Round and round._ ". . . unless you think wearing a hole in the floor is going to . . ." _The big_.

His eyes, half-closed, suddenly snapped open wide. _Round and round the_.

". . . get us in . . ." he finished, barely feeling the words.

_The big machines._

"That's it." It was said so softly that he nearly didn't hear himself. Then, louder: "That's _it_." In a sudden spur of motion he dove toward the nearest large contraption, almost knocking the Insepton out of the way in the process. He started running his hands along the edges of it, fingers pressing into the metal.

The Insepton watched him without comment for a few seconds. "Would you like me to ask you what are doing?" It did sound sincerely curious, though.

"I really don't care, to be honest," Solo grunted back at him, as his eyes widened in triumph. "Ah." His fingers pressed into the corners of something and smooth linear cracks appeared on the surface, quickly forming a square. "There you go," he encouraged, slowly pulling away what was now revealed to be a panel that covered the innards of the machine.

When it was about halfway removed, he gave the whole sheet a yank, sending the slim panel clattering to the floor. "Cassiopea Web, almost three years ago." The square was hiding an intricate cluster of wires and cables. He clutched at a few of them, tugging gently as if testing their strength. "Me and my partner were making a run to the capital, drop some cargo off to some corrupt member of the ruling party that was supposed to help him in a kind of revolt or another . . . I don't know, the details weren't really important. Thing was, the bastard decided to go and _betray_ us . . ." With a heave he pulled two handfuls of wires free from the machine, the effort's release almost sending him crashing back into the wall. "I should have saw it coming, but didn't, of course. Stupid. My partner called it and trust me, he still reminds me of it from time to time." Solo made a face at this, although the expression wasn't too clear in the dim light.

Crouched down on one knee, he began methodically reeling the cables out, occasionally glancing back at the door. "He didn't kill us right away, which I like to think was partially due to my charm and partially because I convinced him that my partner was exiled royalty on his world and he might be able to get a ransom out of us. Instead, as consolation, he threw us in the brig on his ship and got us off-world." Standing up, he wrapped some of the cable length around his arm, bringing as much as he could toward the door.

After measuring out the distance, he then tore the cover off the keypad panel next to the heavy door. It sparked a little, causing him to back up a step, but then fell silent. Nodding to himself, Solo affixed the wires to the exposed circuits, wrapping the ends of them around the various components. "We got out of the cell, of course, the details of _that_ aren't really important either. But the entire brig section was sealed from the outside, meaning that even free, we were still stuck. _Fort_unately, they had a beverage maker sitting on the side for the guards. My partner had the brilliant idea of taking it apart and wiring it to the door. Since it was all technically drawing on the same power source, by doing so you could create an energy feedback loop."

"Which is fascinating, Solo . . ." the Insepton was running its fingers along the wires, making them vibrate a little. "But the difference between here and now is that those wires had power. Here, the power is out."

"Right," Solo said brightly. Dashing back over to the machine, he started fishing in his back pocket. "We sort of had the same problem there, because the little machine wasn't going to give us enough power to do what we needed to do. So what did we need in that case?" Holding up a stubby object into the air, he flashed a grin at the alien and said, "Why, another power source to kick start things." Fiddling with the laser he had taken from the stormtrooper earlier, he disconnected its power pack.

Taking the power pack, he held it over the machine's central wires, moving it to and fro in an attempt to decide the best angle. "By doing that you create a surge through both systems, forcing the failsafes to kick in. And failsafes in that case . . ." taking a deep breath, he rammed the power source into the machine.

The effects were instantaneous. The machine hummed to life, its deep thumping quickly passing into a higher pitch as the wires started to quiver. A bright light strobed Solo's face from the core panel, throwing all his features into brief contrast. The entire room went negative for a second, the fine screeching running completely out of auditory range.

Solo stood up and stood up, massaging his hand. ". . . will shut down all running power sources." There was a faraway thump and Solo glanced toward the double doors. Frowning, he began to walk toward them.

"And that's what it did on the ship?" The Insepton was slinking forward as well.

"Well, actually, we did too good a job and cut power to the entire ship." Did a crack appear between the doors just then? "So we started plummeting toward the planet, which let me tell you, got _everyone's _attention real fast."

"Then how did you-"

"Sh," Solo said, ducking under his mess of wires and standing in front of the doors. "Like I said, the details aren't really important. What matters in this world . . ."

He banged his fist against the doors and with a hiss they slid open.

". . . are results."

Brightness from the control room spilled out all over them like fumbled sunlight. The control room was revealed then as the view opened wide and the quiet clickings and churning whines of its computers filtered toward them.

But the first sight that greeted them was a wide-eyed technician. Leaning up against the nearest console, his entire body seemed poised for a blow that he knew he would not survive.

When he saw them he didn't look reassured at all.

"What have you done?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly. "You've gone and doomed us all."

* * * * *

"You swing and you strike," the Dark Riders said, "and where exactly does it get you?" Without a hiss of rushing air, the being's legs suddenly were elsewhere. It leapt up and past him, its eyes hovering overhead like lights from distant malevolent stars. "You never stop fighting, but doesn't it get tiring? The constant sense of crisis, hardly a chance ever to get your breath?" Its cape billowed out as it landed, unfurling on the darkness as a suffocating cloud. A foot almost casually caught Logan in the back before he could stand, sending him sprawling to the floor again. His claws skittered against the floor, sending out angry sparks.

"It's been so very long for you, hasn't it? Since they pointed you at the world and let you loose?" It was circling him, allowing him to get to his feet. Wait, _wait._ It would keep slipping away from his senses unless he focused on it. "And since then, what have you received in return?" The air dented, whisked, and Logan dodged to the side again. He tried to catch the arm, to slice it right off but it was out of his range before he could even act. When they did get so _fast?_ "A life full of nothing but struggle, drenched in conflict, one that has denied you all the precious things that the rest value." Easy, easy, it was close again, he could tell from its voice. He had stopped paying attention to where the eyes were, it was somehow distorting his vision, the attacks were coming from different angles.

The forked hand snagged him in the throat, forcing his sight to go blurry for a second as he gagged, flailing backwards. He felt his claws nick something but the Dark Rider never made a sound. In fact, its voice was as gleeful as ever. "It's fascinating, in its own way, what you've allowed the world to do to you. How do you _stand _it?" _Move, don't let it get the advantage_. Another vicious kick to his knee sent him down again, but he flipped himself backwards, trying to put distance between them. This wasn't working, he was no good with the surgical strikes, he needed to get _in_ there and rip this monster to shreds. Except it was refusing to stay still.

"One day a time, bub," he gasped, risking the words. It seemed to know where he was anyway and maybe talking back would stall it. But it seemed to be just toying with him, he had been in enough fights to know the difference between a combat and a game. "One day and one bastard." The longer this went on, the worse it was. He had to finish it somehow. _Solo, you better not be screwing it up over there or I will beat the piss out of you myself._

"But all that you _miss_." The Dark Rider's voice almost sounded sympathetic but there was an oily ease underneath the words, a thickness that would spread right into your lungs if you were foolish enough to breathe it in. "The comfort of family, the touch of lovers, the reassurance of memory. You have none of these things . . ." the eyes flickered and skidded and Logan threw himself to the side just in time to hear the Dark Rider's fist thud into the wall. He cut out at it, swearing that he caught part of the cape but the world went spiral as a hard blow rammed into his face. Stars exploded in his head as a sudden fear seized him. His claws fully extended, he struck out blindly, hearing the air whisper and protest, imagining ribbons of it softly settling onto the floor. He never felt anything connect.

". . . just pain. And the sharp memory of pain. How does that feel?" Another in the face and he felt a tooth loosen, seconds from going. Already his mouth was tingling, getting ready to replace it. The constant renewal, he never did get a chance to rest. Was this all he had, swinging at the dark and waiting for it to hit back? All was black, the Dark Rider was so close that he could smell the old agony on its armor, the backwashed screams of its other victims. How many? How many did it get this close to? Was he just another in the line?

No. No. It was more than that. _He_ was more than that. "And . . . what do . . . _you_ have, that's so much . . . better?" he snarled, using the wall to launch himself at the being, letting his claws lead the way and praying it wasn't fast enough to take the sword out. A whisper and a ripple was all he caught. But wait, was it-

"Nothing," the Dark Rider hissed, with a semblance of sick glee. An elbow slammed into the side of his head, the eyes floating near him like beacons he would never reach. "Nothing except pure focus and unswerving purpose, one that carries us through while the rest of the Universe flounders in its mire." It was moving even faster now, the blows were coming right after the other, somehow sneaking around his claws, defying all attempts at linear paths, again and again and _again_, the ocean compressed into fists, each wave driving him back because he couldn't fight it, until it hurt everywhere, even in his bones. Only what was still around his bones held him up. "We will cut away all the extraneous facets, love and compassion, sadness and brightness and hope, wonder and the precious sense of passing time."

Logan coughed, telling himself he didn't taste blood. "What does that leave?"

"Us," came the response, as an unrung bell. "The dense shard of our presence, opaque and pure." Its eyes blinked as warning and precursor. "And nothing will escape. And nothing will want to."

"That won't happen." Don't talk, don't speak to it, save your energy. Save it. It was shifting again, getting ready. He was too slow for it, it was a dream of quicksilver, a river running without friction. "We won't let it."

"Oh, you won't?" it asked, amused. A hardened strand of smoke rammed into his stomach, unleashing all his breath. "How do you know we haven't won already?"

"You, _ah_," he wiped some blood from the side of his face, "you wouldn't waste the time."

"Why not? We have nothing but time. Perhaps," it sneered, a razor right under the tongue, sawing gently, "your friends have been dead all along and we've been playing this game to see how long it takes you to realize it."

_What?_ "Don't kid yourself," he rasped, but at the same time he pounced on the Dark Rider, somehow slamming into it, feeling the roughened slickness of its shape, the constantly squirming armor, the barely contained chaos of its interior.

"Truly?" it said, a darted whisper directly into his brain. "To tell the truth, we teleported a group upstairs some time ago. I imagine they should be done by now."

_It'slyingitslyingitslying_ and his brain told him that and his brain told him to act anyway, his claws skewering every space in between, momentum carrying him the two of them across the room. He pushed forward to drive his claws right into it, but somehow it dodged even at that close distance, the eyes glimmering right before him in mockery. He felt his claws bite into the wall on either side of it.

"And as for you," it said, sending him spinning across the room with a violent kick that came as fast as a lover's rejection on the coldest day. "I asked you once before," _no _and _no_ _no no_, "what can we cut away from you that you cannot afford to lose?"

_Get up, _his body was screaming. His back was against the wall, his feet sliding on the floor without purchase even as it bore down on him, a flock of birds that could blot out every vestige of light created. _Get up and move!_

"Only this," it said, so close to him and there was suddenly a flash of crimson light between them. Logan's eyes widened but all that came out of his mouth was a hollow gasp. He made one last grab at the Dark Rider but his strength failed him and his body relaxed.

Gradually he slid away, down to the floor with a quiet, final exhalation.

"And that's all," the Dark Rider said, standing over him. The baleful light illuminated a neat hole in the wall behind where Logan had been.

It watched him for a few moments, its expression pitiless and unreadable. Then, with a smooth, deliberate motion it sheathed the sword, forcing conical shadows onto the wall that were extinguished shortly thereafter, plunging the room back into darkness.

There was the sound of retreating, unhurried footsteps, and then nothing at all.


	6. All the Assembled Bones

Full title: All the Assembled Bones Do Not Make a Man

Sorry its taking so long to post, my work schedule has been off the wall and so I keep sneaking this in between other moments. In here, our heroes race toward the inevitable knotted conclusion (should be with the next part . . . and some weird formatting should make that fun) and while I'm not supposed to choose favorites, there's a bit with Wolverine here that ranks up as one of the better scenes, although you may disagree. And that's what life is all about. Disagreeing. About Wolverine.

* * *

"Secure the door somehow," Solo ordered the Insepton, which immediately skittered off to a control panel on their side. "Before they realize we're up here."

"It's too late," the technician was saying over and over, near a mantra, the words beginning to blur together into another sound entirely. "It's too _late_."

"Shut up," Solo barked out with barely a glance toward the man. He was roaming the computer banks, trying to identify what the hell it was they did. All the readouts looked the same to him. _Dammit_. He could decipher a ship's controls without any effort at all, but this was just a cryptic beeping mass.

"The power's cut entirely to the doors," the Insepton called out from across the room. "I'm not going to be able to seal us back in."

"Just as well," Solo said, not before cursing under his breath. "We're going to have to go back that way when we're done. You see Logan yet? Any sign of him at all?"

"None. Do you think he's lost inside the building somewhere?"

Solo grimaced. "I hope not, this is going to be hard enough as it is. About the only bright side to that is we'll be able to follow him through the path of destruction he leaves behind." Staring at the nearest console with narrowed eyes, he muttered, "Now which of you do I have to break to get this barrier down?"

"What are you doing?" the technician came over, his steps tentative and fearful. "Don't touch that."

Solo looked up as if seeing him for the first time. His face breaking out into a broad grin, he extended his hand to the other man. "Hey there, I'm Han Solo, respectable trader. I don't think we've met. How are you doing?"

The man only stared at the hand timidly. He looked ready to burst into tears.

"Easy, you've had a rough day, I'm sure," Solo said soothingly. He put an arm around the man's shoulders, which didn't seem to ease his tension at all. In fact it became visibly worse when Solo roughly squeezed the other man. "Thing is," he said, his voice not breaking beyond its casual friendliness, "our day has been much the same and for it to get better, this barrier needs to come down. Which is where _you_ come in."

"I can't bring it down," he answered in a shaking whisper. "I can't."

"Can't, or won't? Hm?" Solo maneuvered the technician so that he was forced up against the nearest tall console, its placidly blinking lights bracketing his head, perhaps pulsing in time with his thoughts. "Because the former we can certainly find a way around, we've been defying popular notions all day. And if it's the latter . . ." his hand went to his belt, calmly stroking the laser perched there. "That all depends on how open to persuasion you are."

The technician's lips moved for a few seconds without any words emerging. Then he sagged against the console, wringing his hands together. Finally, he blurted out almost as an explosion, "That barrier is the only thing keeping us _alive_."

"Oh?" Solo asked. But before he could pursue the matter further, the Insepton came over, its eyes probing in all directions.

"Solo," it said, "something isn't right here. The image we witnessed from the marketplace doesn't correspond exactly."

"Wait, what do you mean?" He stepped away from the technician and the man nearly dropped to the floor.

"Look around, tell me what is missing."

"Don't play games, it's just a room full of . . ." as he stared around his eyes suddenly widened as it came to him. "Bodies," he finished quietly. Darting around the console he looked around deeper, taking a good glance about the place. "Where are all the bodies? We saw the Dark Riders cut down everyone in the room. Where did they all go?" Pivoting, he rounded on the technician, who appeared ready to cower again. "What the hell is going on here?" He grabbed the man harshly, his laser pointed at the technician's chest. "There are a lot of places I could shoot you where you won't die right away. You want to find out how many there are?"

"No, you've got it all wrong, it's all _wrong_ . . ." the man wailed, breaking away from Solo in a sharp motion, stumbling back a few steps and tumbling to the floor.

"What? What is wrong?" Solo demanded, placing one foot on his leg so he couldn't run away and gripping the laser in both hands. "What is-"

"It wasn't _here_." The man's eyes were nearly bulging out of his head. "What you saw wasn't here." His hands were moving to cover his face. "Please don't shoot me."

"We came all the way up here," Solo said, his voice very even. "We may have lost a friend because he tried to buy us time. I am not a real happy man at the moment. I want the explanation and I want it now."

"It was . . . that was the central control room," the man was hiccupping the words, the syllables overlapping each other. "You saw that, those men, they got in there. But at the last second, one of them, he transferred all the system controls to here. He . . . his name was Majal, we used to discuss relayball teams . . . " the man's voice trailed off and he wiped at his nose, gasping slightly. His eyes stared off into the distance for a second before he recovered violently, snapping himself back. "Sorry, I'm sorry, he . . . this is the auxiliary control room, here."

Solo chewed at his lip, biting back the curses that could possibly lacerate the air if unleashed. The Insepton was poking curiously at the various consoles, though he was fairly sure it was paying attention. "The auxiliary room," he said in a deadened tone. "And you're the only one here."

"The systems are only backup, they technically don't need anyone here unless there's a dire emergency." The technician wiped some sweat off his forehead, gradually scrambling to his feet. "The Directorate assigned me here when the Empire decided to take over the port, just in case. They didn't expect any of this to happen." His eyes bulged again briefly as the enormity of the situation struck him once more. "Why is this happening?"

"Because I don't know when to leave well enough alone," Solo muttered, sounding agitated. Exhaling broadly, he rubbed the back of his neck. This day felt like it had gone on for months and it hardly seemed over yet. "So why the hell can't the barrier come down?"

The technician was fiddling with the controls on the nearest console, causing a variety of graphs and readouts to scroll across, too fast to truly read. He seemed to be having no problem, their multicolored linearities reflected in his eyes, spears and spines intersecting. "When it . . . when they came, I noticed a spike in the ambient energy haze, originating somewhere far off the port. I tried to track it back to the source but it's . . . it's not anywhere that makes any sense, the origin point is somehow . . . sideways to the plane."

"No, that makes perfect sense," the Insepton chimed in, sidling right up to the technician. "It's just that you have little understanding of dimensional transfer. The blocks of reality sit both outside and perpendicular to us."

The technician stood up a bit straighter in response to the slight. With a bit of steel in his voice, he faced down the Insepton. "I was able to theorize as much, thank you. The important part was that I was able to discern that they were teleporting in via a multiwave energy beam. After the first group came in, I noticed another energy build-up, predicting a surge." His face spoke of a certain horror, of desperate pleas still rattling about inside his head, at odds with his clinical tone. One hand squeezed the unyielding metal of the console. "That's when I made the decision to throw up the barrier. That's what saved us."

"It blocks energy transmissions?" The Insepton looked ready to leap for a better view of the schematics.

"Yes." The technician's eyes went from Solo and back to the alien. "And right now it's the only thing keeping more of those monsters off the port. It comes down and more will be able to teleport in."

"That's a chance we're just going to have to take."

"I can't let you do that." The technician's former timidity was gone, replaced by an icy calm. "I can't risk any more lives. It's gone too far."

"I really don't have the time to argue with you right now," Solo said, holding his arm out straight and pivoting slowly so that the laser found a variety of targets. "So if you don't take it down I'm going to just keep shooting things until one of them turns it off. And if you happen to get in the way . . ." the barrel stared directly at the man's chest. "Well, _oops_ . . ." he finished with a narrow grin.

"Think about it," the Insepton reasoned. "They are already on the port and their numbers are enough to slaughter everyone here. Matters cannot possibly become worse than they are. Cut off, the Empire and Port militia do not have the necessary means to eradicate them. As the situation stands now, the Dark Riders have nothing but time. They can linger and whittle the forces down until only what they need is left. And what they need is not very much."

The technician gave them suspicious glances. "And what would you do instead?"

"Get the hell out of here." Solo didn't even recognize his own voice for a second. "We're what they want. We go, and we'll take the problem with us." He leaned with both hands on the nearest console, head hanging down. "Once we're gone they have no reason to stay. Worst case, they follow us and I'll lose them out in the frontier. You keep us locked in here, we're all dead. So I'm telling you-"

"It's too late," the technician said.

"No, it's _not_," Solo suddenly raged, banging both hands on the metal. "Because I've come too damn far with this to just give up, too many people have died that didn't _need to_." His arms were trembling, locked into place. "I am not the best human being around and I am sure as hell not anyone's best friend, but I've tried to do one right thing here and it's become nothing but a mess." He sucked air through his teeth, letting it out slow. The tension still radiated in his face, however, a thousand wires looking to fray. "I made a mistake, all right? I shouldn't have let it get this far. But I did because . . ." he laughed without visible humor. It wasn't clear who he was even speaking to anymore. "Because I'm an idiot. And people who aren't me have been paying for that. But there's still a chance to put this right, I _know_ that, dammit. So you can't-"

"No, it's too _late_ . . ."

"Will you stop _saying_ that?" Solo roared, coming close to lunging at the man. Only the Insepton's voice, too calm for the maelstrom, made him stop.

"Solo." For the first time, the alien actually sounded its size. Its words treaded on fragile glass. "I think he's right. I believe you should turn around."

That's when he saw the technician's face, staring at a point past him, all color drained, his expression gone ashen, the look of a wake held before the body was even buried.

Slowly, too slow, as if he hoped the moment might sneak away into another life, Solo let himself turn around. But even before he did he felt the deepening shadow touch his back, the absence that existed without the light source. It was both expected and chilling.

"It's very nice of you to trap yourself like this," the Dark Rider said, the crimson bleed of its sword staining all the nearby surfaces. It stood in the doorway but Solo could see at least five others standing behind it, the yellow flicker of their eyes and the intermingled colors of their weapons. "It will certainly make the rest of this much easier."

_No._ _No no no_. Keeping an outward calm even as his insides decided to drag themselves into hyperspace, Solo immediately backed away, his laser held out toward the nearest Dark Rider. "You haven't won," he said, his voice as dry as the deserts of Gultrop VII, where the heat became so extreme that the air itself was stressed with spiderline cracks. "Don't think you have."

The Dark Rider's laugh was an aborted scream ground under a boot. "You are certainly welcome to call it whatever you'd like, if it makes you feel better." It stepped further into the room, even as the ones behind it fanned out to cover all possible angles. The technician was lodged in place, his body trembling so hard it might rattle itself apart. The Insepton had ducked behind a nearby console, its laser out and its eyes watching carefully. "But we have secured the building, we have cornered you into this room . . ."

_You haven't won yet,_ Solo thought valiantly. _There's still-_

". . . and your friend lies dead on a lower floor, his attempt to stall us only succeeding in just that, stalling. But even slowed, we are inevitable. A lesson he learned far too late."

_Logan?_ The wordless yell squeezed itself out of him before he could bottle it back up, mingling with the snipped and keening wail of the laser firing.

"A lesson you would do well to learn, also," it finished, deflecting the laser beam with its sword, sending it skittering along the floor, leaving skipped burn marks in its wake. A shuddering stillness stood between them as Solo faced the Dark Rider. His arm was only shaking just the smallest bit.

"Go on, attempt to shoot me again." The Dark Rider spread its arms slightly. His armor seemed to absorb the harsh gleam of his own blade. "Twice, a dozen times, until you've realized the futility of it." Solo only backed away another step, his breathing stuttered. "Oh, but you're not a stupid man, are you, Han Solo? Easily fooled, perhaps, but once the reality of the situation has presented itself to you, you are fully able to see things clearly and as they are."

"You can't have it," Solo answered, the words not even sounding like his own. "It's not yours to have."

"It was never yours to see," the Dark Rider responded. It paced around the front of the console even as Solo moved in the opposite direction, trying to keep the same distance between them. But the Dark Rider's steps were unhurried, merely a stroll. "And yet you did. The rules that govern this Universe are set by those with their own self-interest at heart. We only seek to violate them to reveal them for the hollow structures that they are."

"Save the speech for those who give a damn." Solo ducked behind the next console. The Dark Rider didn't even seem concerned. If only this damn room had windows, he was probably too high up for it to even matter but at least it would be an option. And a terrible option was better than the choices he was being presented with currently.

"What is it to you, protecting this secret?" The Dark Rider tilted its head to the side, studying him so closely that it was discomforting.

"I have my reasons." He couldn't meet its eyes directly. "And I made a promise."

The laugh again, a litany of every wasted day. "And you are suddenly a man of your _word?_ Ah, Solo, you truly are an amusing specimen of your race." It came around, the point of the sword just barely touching the floor. Solo danced back again, always with the laser between and the back wall getting ever closer. "Do not be ashamed of your broken oath, then, for we are taking the decision out of your hands."

"I said already, I'm not _telling_ you."

"I know." And all traces of humor were gone, just like that. "As I said, we are taking the decision out of your hands. You are coming back with us."

"Y-you can't." The technician sounded like he was trying to vomit up bones. "The barrier is still in place, you won't be able to break through."

The Dark Rider glanced at the man and then looked away dismissively. "Is _that_ the only problem?" It gestured to another Dark Rider and said, "Begin the powerdown procedures for the barrier. And alert the origin point that we will be departing shortly."

One of the others nodded and moved forward, brushing the technician aside and beginning to work on the console. There was a steady humming as the machines churned away.

Face aghast, the technician looked unsure whether to lunge at the Dark Rider or flee the room. "Wait, how do you know how to work the controls?"

The Dark Rider nearest him didn't answer but the one stalking Solo did. "Little man, who do you think activated the barrier in the first place?"

His jaw worked soundlessly for a few seconds. "No, that was, I mean, it was . . . _me._"

"You were led to think it was you so that it would be maintained but it was always our hand that guided the action." The Dark Rider strode closer to the man, its shadow falling on him like an old bruise.

"I hit the switch myself, I'm sure I did." He was being stubborn about this and Solo couldn't tell why. He doubted the man was doing it to stall for time but Solo was trying to take the opportunity and find a way out. Nothing presented itself, the room was penned in with no other exits and the Dark Riders were standing in front of the only door with their swords drawn. Shooting his way out was not an option, unless he wanted to opt to go out with a blaze of glory. But up here, nobody would ever know about the blaze or the glory. "I put in all the proper codes, it was never activated until I did that."

"Think about it." The sword's tip tracing bitter lines in the air right before his face, his chest, his eyes. The technician was doing his best not to move, maybe finally realizing the danger. "What other way could we guarantee that Solo would enter the building, how else could we guarantee that he would go exactly where we wanted him to go, thus trapping himself."

_Boys, you flatter me_, Solo thought, looking around the backs of the consoles for a panel that he might be able to yank wires out of, perhaps disrupt the computers or hell, electrocute the Dark Riders. Massive jolts of electricity had to at least slow them down. Maybe he could run current through the floor? Did they have rubber boots on? Dammit, he needed someone else here to bounce ideas off of. _I wish you were here_, he thought suddenly, surprisingly, unable to even venture the name. _I wish that none of this had ever happened._

"No." A whisper from numbed lips. And for a second he looked as if he would swat the blade away. "I kept more of you from coming in. I saved us."

"And why," the Dark Rider asked, a slit drawn tenderly across the brain, "would we require _more_ of us here? Leaving is what we need. And now we can do that as well. All of us." The blade settled on his throat. The technician held still, his eyes unfocused and his body rigid. "Although your departure will be in a somewhat . . . different direction."

_Oh, damn_. Solo realized what was about to happen. _He's only a bystander, he doesn't deserve to die_. But would he redirect their attention back to him to save someone else's life? He had to get out of here and besides, the man could save himself. There was no way he could save them all, he could barely save himself. Or Logan. Or . . .

Slowly, he stood up straight, the gun heavy. _Someone better write a song about this someday_.

"_Do_ it, then," the technician gasped, to anyone who might be listening. An order or a plea.

His finger tightened on the trigger.

"Wait!" The whiplash of a voice was enough to make all the participants pause. Flexibly, the Insepton came around a corner, crawling directly toward the Dark Rider. Its own weapon was away but there was a pointed quality to his stare. "You cannot do this."

This made the Dark Rider pause. "Oh? His life means that much to you?"

The Insepton barely even acknowledged the other man. "Him? No, do what you will. I am speaking of the _forsgalai_. I claim first rights of its possession, as it belongs to my race."

"Truly?" The blade came down from the man's throat, although it wasn't clear if he even noticed at first. Even Solo found himself relaxing. "You believe us bound by these laws?"

"You stand in this galaxy where such laws were formed." The Insepton's hands told the story, perhaps every story. "Whatever your need is of it, that does not trump the need of an entire race. We have been fractured ever since the loss of it, and the others like it."

"I know this," the Dark Rider said, staring directly down at the alien. "From my vantage point I watched your planet crumble, its cities dissolve, the beauty of it crushed and scattered into so much lingering debris. I heard the voices cry out even in the vacuum, as the beasts who consumed your world fought over the scraps and loomed as cancers searching for a body. I watched the artifacts launched and spin away in hopeful direction, until they were specks forever lost in the darkness."

"You speak of the deep times," the Insepton answered. It hardly seemed fazed. "Your race has that long of a memory?"

"Not memory," it snapped back. "A witness."

"Did you laugh when you saw it, then, Dark Rider?" There was a strangely dangerous edge to the Insepton's voice. "As the bodies floated into the void and the sky splintered, were you amused?"

"We do not seek suffering," it said, its voice oddly formal. "But our plans are not our own and if suffering is drawn from them, then we have no choice but to follow that course. I did _not_ laugh, Insepton, for there was nothing to laugh at. All existence crumbles and we merely seek to force the falling wreckage into a structure of our design. Your world fell and became part of the plan, whether your race intended it or not. Have you ever seen the remnants of it?"

"Once." The admission came uneasily. "I journeyed there into its midst, but I could not lay eyes on it. The wound is still fresh in me, in all of us." It eyes drooped for a second, then its whole body stiffened, as if getting ready to launch itself. "But I cannot let you take Solo away from here."

"That's right, kids, fight over me," Solo muttered, still working on prying off the back cover of a console. "Maybe you'll just kill each other in the process and save me the trouble."

"You'll stop us?"

The Insepton twitched slightly, running a hand over its head. "I will certainly try. The _forsgalai_ is not yours and will never be. It can't be. It's too important. Solo must come with me until its location is revealed. Then, if you still want him, he is yours."

_Yeah, same to you_, Solo thought, frowning. The back cover popped loose, but he held it steady so to cushion the noise. Ah, he could do something with this.

"You are the lone representative of your race on this port. A race not known for its ability to work cohesively." The sword swept toward the alien. "We are many here and of one force. What would you do?"

"If you take it," the Insepton warned, "I will trigger the Regathering. Even if its means my life. Once my race is aware you have it, they will stop at nothing to get to you. We will burrow across the gaps to your dimension and we will raze everything we find until it is in our possession. No matter what effort needs to be expended. Or how long it takes."

The blade shivered a little at the Insepton's words but the Dark Rider did not strike. Instead it stared at the alien for perhaps a half minute. "You would do this." Was there some measure of respect in its voice?

"As a start, yes."

"You misconstrue us," the Dark Rider said, pivoting on its heel and walking across the room. Its eyes searched the corners but if they found Solo he made no mention of it. "You think we seek your artifact only to hide it again. That is not our plan. Our only goal is to take what is hidden and bring it out into the open again."

"You walk wrapped in darkness. Your lights reveal nothing."

"Only when the lights are gone can all the shadows vanish as well." It spoke with a strange conviction, perhaps its first words that didn't seem channeled from elsewhere. "We have no desire to keep it, Insepton. The fact that is no longer lost or hidden is enough for us. Once we have it, once we have gleaned what knowledge we desire out of it, it shall go back to your race." It stared at the Insepton over its shoulder, eye slits glittering. "Is that not what you want?"

"We deserve first rights-"

"The rules are not yours to make or invoke," the Dark Rider shot back with a quiet thundering. "We will have it and turn it over to you. Or there will be war, one that you most certainly lose and the search will be over in its own way. Those are the terms and the conditions and the only chance you will get." The Insepton had gone forward, so that it stood in the pathway between the Dark Rider and the rear of the room.

Behind it all Solo was frantically unspooling wires, trying to find a live end that he could trigger. He didn't want to think about what the sound of time running out was. The calm hiss of a voice, too convincing.

"How do I know you're not lying?" The Insepton swayed, perhaps soothed.

If the Dark Rider could have smiled perhaps it would have done so in that moment. "We have everything. Why would I?" It faced him, then, and said, "Stand aside, and your race will be whole again. Let us take him, and it will be over."

"I will hold you to this." Was that agreement? Solo cursed under his breath, taking his laser and holding it between his teeth so that both hands were free. He could rig the entire room to blow from here, maybe, set up a feedback loop. That would work, it had to work. He wasn't going to get whisked away in some dark column to end up who knew where. Not so they could win. That was what irked him the most, maybe. He didn't want the bastards to win.

"And we will remain held." He thought he had the scuttling footsteps of the Insepton receding but that couldn't be right. _If they don't kill me right away, I am going to beat the hell out of you._ He still had a chance for this, the loop was almost in place.

"Is the barrier down yet?" he heard the Dark Rider say.

"It is," came the response, so near and so different. How did they tell each other apart? _That's right, though, keep asking questions. _Just one more connection . . .

"And how long ago did you cut the power to the rear console banks?"

"About five minutes ago."

_Uh-oh_. He didn't even bother tapping the ends of the wires to test if they were live or not, finally noticing the subtle quiet of the machine. A part of him welcomed the turn of events, he hadn't been forced to shoot his way out of anything in some time. Even if he didn't think he'd survive. _Well, pal, I tried, I really did_. He looked for sadness in the thought but couldn't find any. He had never been one for regrets. A character flaw, probably but it was too late to fix it now. Spitting his laser out into his hands, he took a deep breath. _If I'm lucky, maybe I'll shoot the one that killed you, Logan_.

Then he popped up from behind the console. The Dark Rider was staring right at him with its disconcerting gaze, perhaps knowing where he'd been the whole time.

"Come and get me," he said, with a mad grin.

The Dark Rider didn't move. "Oh, that won't be a problem at all."

Then he heard the humming, boring its way into his pores, his bones, his molecules. _Oh no. _Ice flooded through his veins. _The barrier is down._ The world began to darken, as if walls were being built around him in obsidian. It was taking him to pieces, cutting him down into narrow slices and sending those shards away. He was breathing out of synch with himself, the world he saw being overlaid with the world he didn't know, all darkness and stone and suffocating despair. He needed to get out but geometry had dissolved. It had gone and he would go. The room was fading out, the only sharp objects were the Dark Riders and even they were blending into the darkening of his vision until all he could see where the glow of their eyes, a dozen compressed stars all fixed into a new sky, malicious and cold. Everything was so still except

_except_

_pull back_

except was that a

_pull back Han_

was that a rustling

_stay why don't you_

beyond the door was that a

_where are you_

movement any kind of behind

_where do you think you're going_

As the Dark Rider furthest away suddenly went down and a shape deprived of all friction burst into the room. With the scene flash-frozen, it was the only motion left, a barreling procession of whirling knives, the howl as physical force. The air became crisscrossed with slashes as swords and sharpness contested, meeting in conflict or maybe not touching at all. Going from moment to moment in tightened violence with no hesitation, each brutality flowing into the next with a frightening ease, he could see them going down, one by one. Elegant in their demise they fell, graceful in their collapse. If anyone was talking the sound didn't reach him, perhaps it was caught and captured before it ever had a chance. So far away, seen through a backwards lens, he was there and wasn't there and he needed to be _back-_

At some point the teleport lock on him was released.

"_Ah!_" he hissed, flush with the sensation of half his atoms being forcibly rammed back into his body. Despite himself, he dropped, his knees banging against the floor. The room flooded itself back to him then, the sounds of fighting wrapping themselves around his brain as a spiked tunnel. He kept coughing, as if trying to eject something foul. Shouts were coming to him but he had lost the language and none of it made any sense. His entire body was tingling and a slickness was clinging to his skin that he couldn't shake, as if he had been exposed to an oily pool. _Where was that? Where did you almost take me?_

In the room all sound had ceased, maybe not so much stopped as held.

Grimacing with the effort, Solo wrapped both hands around the top of the console and hauled himself to his feet. The room tilted back into a proper view, almost unwillingly. Blinking, Solo forced himself to focus.

What he saw first were Logan's mad eyes.

He was staring right at Solo without truly seeing him, his breathing staccato and rapid, the only proper noise in the room. Nobody else was standing but him and Solo. His hands were clenched into fists, the claws jutting out like monument to a new violence. One held an impaled scrap of fabric, perhaps part of a cape. His head kept sweeping back and forth, trying to find a new repository for an energy he could no longer contain.

"You're not dead," was all he could think of to say, in the face of it.

Logan blinked, all too slowly, a man acclimating himself to a foreign territory. "Yeah," he said, in a voice already shot through with holes. "Guess I'm not." Solo had a feeling he would have said that no matter what anyone said to him.

Carefully, cautiously, Solo began to emerge from behind the console, his laser holstered and arms at his sides. "You all right? Maybe you want to sit down for a second." He saw the first Dark Rider body sprawled across the pathway, its arms askew and head turned to the side as if still trying to avoid the final blow. Solo thought he saw puncture wounds in the face but didn't want to look too closely.

"No, I'll be . . ." Logan visibly shook himself, swayed without staggering. His claws hadn't retracted yet. "We're fine, it's fine."

Solo felt his heart racing, although he couldn't explain why. The situation was balanced, but he didn't know which way to let it tip. He barely knew this man, knew nothing at all about what made him tick. "Then why don't you, ah, put those claws away and we can all-"

Then he finally got a good look at Logan, and stopped.

He was still wearing his leather jacket but his shirt had been torn away, revealing his bare chest. Hairy and chiseled, it was what Solo would expect from someone of Logan's build but he wasn't interested in studying his musculature. What his eyes were drawn to instead was a mark in the center of his chest, a little off to the side.

It was a neat indentation, perfectly circular and now shallow but giving the impression that it had been much deeper not that long ago. The hair around it was matted down, stiff with dried blood and streaked.

Feeling something in his stomach clench, Solo asked, "Pal, are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," Logan said again, his fingers gingerly scratching at the area around the hole without touching it. "Why wouldn't I be, I'm-"

Then his eyes opened a little wider and his nostrils flared out. A series of coils seemed to flex inside his body as he glided toward the door.

"What is it?" Solo said, daring to move a few inches closer. "What did you-"

Then he heard it too.

Footsteps, the clamor of many boots ascending. Darkened murmurs of echoed voices. And maybe far below, the stabbing of impossible blades.

The noise seemed to send Logan into a new rage. With a snarl he flung himself away from the door. His claws gouged lines in the closest computer even as he dropped to the floor and out of Solo's sight.

". . . no more . . ." he heard the man say. ". . . this is over . . ."

Solo didn't like the sound of any of that. He had never felt in control of the situation from the start but now it felt like matters were really spiraling out of hand. Sliding toward Logan, he said, "Listen, you bought us some time, we've just got to think of a plan-"

A flare of bloodlight caused him to step back. Logan rose up a second later, his face changed into an unbearably feral expression by the light of the sword he was holding.

"The only plan," Logan said, not even sounding like himself anymore, "is to _finish _this. Stay here."

Solo felt his pulse quicken to the point where the flush hit the back of his spine. _Don't do this, don't_. "Wait, are you sure-" He was moving even before he thought about moving.

_"Stay here!_" Logan roared, the force of his order knocking Solo back a step. And then he was gone, a war let off its leash, his body a rocket gone and freed too early, literally throwing himself into the stairwell and gone from view immediately. The last thing he saw was the light from the sword expanding outwards, finding every angle and corner, explaining in its way that the world was too small to contain it.

Even so, Solo ran to the doorway, both hands braced against either side to prevent himself from going forward. "Logan!" he called out, only hearing his own voice reflected back at him.

"I imagine he's past hearing you by this point," a familiar voice said. Solo didn't even turn around, hearing the multiple footsteps and knowing who it was instantly. "And even if he did, I doubt he would answer."

"This is insane," Solo said, letting himself sag against the doorframe slightly. "It needs to be over."

"I agree," although the Insepton said it was as mildly as always. "I imagine that is what our bestial friend is attempting to bring about."

From far below came the clattered sounds of forces clashing into each other, time scraping against time, the heaviness of it all descending out of their reach. He wasn't even capable of imagining exactly what was happening and even so he felt no desire to go rushing down there. And he'd never know if it was the smartest or most cowardly decision he'd ever made. It wasn't an aspect of himself he was comfortable with.

So he assuaged it in the only way he knew how. By taking it out on someone else.

"It's not like you've been doing much to help," he snapped at the Insepton, who was just emerging from behind a console. The technician had been ducking down as well, but he came up slowly, his face wrapped in a kind of shock. "What the hell was that all about, giving me up to them?"

"Please." The Insepton waved a dismissive hand. "Do you think I trust them? Almost everything they say is a lie."

"Like the barrier," the technician said, his voice ghosting. "I turned it on. I know I did."

"See?" the Insepton noted. "They claimed otherwise merely to make themselves look smarter."

"At least I thought I did."

The Insepton joined Solo at the doorway. "I had hoped to keep them talking to allow time for another option to present itself." The eyes bobbed, regarding him. "You seemed to have lots of plans, I had thought you'd come up with something more creative than simply holding a gun on them."

"Hey, I was under pressure," Solo said flatly. "They can't all be genius."

"Fortunately for us, they were lying about killing Logan."

Solo frowned. "I don't know if they were. Did you see that wound?" _He looked like someone who hasn't realized he's dead yet_. The thought came unbidden and he couldn't dislodge it.

"No, I was at the wrong angle, what did it-"

"Wait, hold on," Solo said, his voice hushed. He held up a hand. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what? There's nothing-"

"That's just it. I don't hear anything." He closed his eyes briefly and swallowed, as if afraid that seeing the darkness was seeing too much. "I think it's over."

"For who?"

"I don't know." Opening his eyes, he went out into the outer room, trying to determine if all noise had retreated. But no, it was still silent. "But it's the only way down." He eased his laser into his palm, wondering how much good it would ultimately do.

"Then we should go." Just like that came the suggestion. Solo wondered if the Insepton was afraid of anything. Or if it just didn't process fear the same way that he did. Maybe its one fear was dying without being able to find what he was looking for. And compared to that, nothing else mattered. It wasn't anything he could easily relate to. He wasn't sure he ever wanted to. "The barrier's down and regardless of whether they won or not, the Dark Riders may be able to send more."

"Right," Solo replied. The Insepton was already ahead of him, moving toward the stairwell. Solo went to take a step to follow him, but found himself ducking back into the room.

Flashing a grin he didn't feel at the technician, he said, "It's been fun. We'll look you up next time we're in mortal peril."

Standing alone in the room, the technician only looked back and Solo, saying, "What do I do now?"

The smile faded from his face as he regarded the bodies flung heedlessly around, the corpses that he had passed coming up here, all their boundless inertia ground to a halt.

He didn't respond right away. Turning sideways, he cast one last look back and said, "Just be glad you're still alive." It wasn't what he wanted to say, but it was close enough.

* * * * *

They found him maybe about halfway down the length of the building, sprawled on the landing.

It was the light that warned them first. Harsh and searing, it seemed to trickle into every crack. Solo had rounded the stairs first, and it from the top of those steps that he saw Logan.

He was slumped down, pressed against the wall, his back flush with it, legs curled and carved. The hollow churning of his breathing was the only echo. The sword was still in his possession, its glow highlighting the sheen of sweat coating his face. The crimson tint gave his face a haunted expression. Or maybe it wasn't the sword at all.

Logan was surrounded by bodies.

Solo couldn't even hope to count how many, they were piled and the black on black armor made it impossible to tell. Nor were they all together, he saw heads resting near legs, arms separated from torsos, hands and chests and the rest, along with curved pieces that he couldn't immediately identify, all resting about and around each other haphazardly. All the cuts were smooth, and there was no blood to be found.

"_Ah_," he heard Logan gasp, as if trying to squeeze a razor out of his stomach. His eyes were still locked onto the sword.

Gingerly, Solo went down a few steps. From his angle above, Logan looked even smaller than usual, dwarfed by his own violence. "Listen, it's just us . . . it's only us. Your friends, it's-"

"You were _right_." The words were his voice but with all the smoothness removed. Which of them was he speaking to? "It's too easy." He was almost panting, his pupils nearly vibrating. What was he seeing? "It makes it too easy . . ."

"I warned you," the Insepton whispered. But it came no closer. "Do you see, now?"

"You don't even _feel_ . . ." he took one hand off the sword, held it up before his eyes, the fingers splayed. The claws emerged shyly, flowers from a barren garden. "I always feel it, no matter what I cut through." The metal caught the sword's glow and reflected it, flickering, almost like the elements were conversing. "They never even screamed. And this . . . it's just, there's nothing. You move and it just . . . cuts. That's it, there's nothing else." He started moving his hand closer to the blade, almost in a daze. "Would I even feel it if I . . ."

The whine of a laser caused him to blink and shift violently aside. There was a burn mark on the wall near his head.

"Don't," Solo said, lowering the gun. "Just let it go."

"But they're gone," Logan said, his eyes pale and shimmering. "I can't take it, Han. Why can't I just cut it away?"

"Because you can't." Solo went down another step. "That's not the way it goes. You know that."

"I . . . yes." He took in a deep breath, arching his back so that he was staring at the ceiling, his eyes half-closed. "Yes," he said, as an expulsion.

His body relaxed for only a second and then with a motion so sudden that it seemed to smear the air, he twisted, his arm snapping out to fling the sword away, the action emerging from his body as an elongated snarl, as if he were trying to yank all the propulsion out of a motor that just wouldn't stop.

The landing went dark abruptly. As Solo's eyes adjusted, he saw the sword implanted into the far wall, right up to the hilt. Logan was bent away from it, one hand covering his face without touching it. He might have been trembling but it could have been the lack of light finally settling on him.

Gradually, the sword began to sink through the wall, carving a path inexorably down to the floor.

Solo practically vaulted down the stairs to Logan, reaching the man even as he was trying to stand upright again. For all his resilience and healing abilities, he was moving stiffly, sorely, the pain of it evident on his face.

"Wait," Han said, a hand on the man's shoulder to keep him down. Logan gave him a look that suggested Solo was about to get punched but the blow never came. Instead, he appeared to resign himself, leaning his head back until it touched the wall. "Do me a favor and don't move for a second. I just want to see . . ." Brushing aside the matted hair on his chest, Solo's fingers probed the ugly wound there. It _was _a hole of sorts, covered over in skin but definitely a wound once. The skin around it was an angry red, as if the regrowth was fighting to overcome a force it wasn't expecting.

"Pal, what did they do to you?" The man's flesh was feverish, especially the area around the wound, as if his body was only the casing for a molten core that was slowing rising to the surface.

"What do you think?" Logan said. Irritated, he pushed Solo's hands away, doing his best to close his jacket around his chest. The move was self-conscious and very much unlike him. Or at least what Solo had come to know as him. "The bastard got a lucky shot in, stabbed me."

"You're the lucky one, not him," Solo said, feeling the Insepton nosing around his leg, also trying to get a closer look. "Way that looks to me, he just about nailed you in the heart."

"He did." Ignoring Solo's shocked expression, Logan hauled himself to his feet, one hand on the wall and swaying a bit until his balance returned. For one second his eyes went to the sword still cutting its way down the wall but flickered away just as quickly.

"Since you appear to have deprived Han Solo of speech, I'll ask the question." The Insepton slid forward, eyes shimmering in the half-light. "How is it you were able to survive being impaled in the heart?"

"Don't know," was all Logan said, absently rubbing his chest for just a moment. "And don't care, all that matters is that I'm still here. Now, come on." He set off down the stairs, going ahead of them. "We ain't discussing this now, let's go."

"No," Solo said. Logan stopped, didn't turn around.

"Solo, he already said he doesn't wish to talk about it. Let's not waste time-"

"Look at his jacket," Solo breathed. He stood there amidst the still bodies of the dead, his face wrapped in flickering grey. "Look at the _back _of it."

Without waiting for anyone to speak or react, he took two fast steps forward, his arm darting out to poke his fingers into the neat hole in Logan's coat, a hole that matched the one in his chest in both size and position.

"It went right _through_ you," he said. "And you're still here."

Logan shrugged away the other man. "You going somewhere with this?" The stairs yawned behind him, gradations of black fading downward, ready to swallow him whole if he decided to simply fall. "Like the bug said, we don't have time for this."

"You're not the least bit curious why you're still alive."

"I got a habit of surviving," Logan replied evenly, backing down the steps. In the rustling silence of the building, they might have been the only voices alive. "This time, I didn't die. Maybe the next time, I will. It's not something I'm interested in questioning." His eyes narrowed as he stared at Solo through the dark. "You going to let it go, now?"

"Maybe," but Solo didn't seem convinced. "It doesn't affect me in the least bit but how can you-"

"You remember your family, Solo?" Logan's voice snapped out as every drifting autumn leaf turned into a razor, leaving you with no room to dodge. "Mother, father, the rest? You remember being a kid? Playing in fields, sitting on the roof watching the stars go by? You got days like that in you, I can tell."

_Just tell me that you'll come back. That you won't forget_. His mother's voice? Or maybe another, it had all been so long ago. Memory fainted on the mind, left footprints in the snow that other days covered, so gentle that you never realized what was being erased until it was gone, until you tried to trace it back. Faces receding with all the velocity of distance, forces shaking, the pressure of a touch fading. How many years had it been since he heard the rolled flatness of his own accent?

"Yeah, I do," he said uneasily, hesitantly. Maybe they were wasting time. And yet, it tugged at him, refused to let him cease. "But I don't see what that has to-"

"I don't, all right?" and the words were spit out as both regret and defiance. "I don't have any of them, I just know they were there. It's like . . ." he swayed, putting one arm out stiffly to brace himself against the wall, his head bowed. All the weight he carried, even when gravity didn't exist. It still bore down. "You see a reflection on the water, right? You see it, but you can't make out exactly what it is, it's all wavy and indistinct. All you can get is the idea of it." His hand formed a fist, dragged itself down the wall, the barely protruding claws creating parallel scratches in the metal. But even so, it didn't scar nearly as easily as the sword did. As it still did, behind them. "And you go to grab it, and it just . . . disperses. All you got is a handful of water and even that leaks out and then you got nothing." He looked up at Solo and the bleeding slits created by the descending sword seemed to be mirrored in his eyes, cuts in the brain that refused to heal. "That's my head, Solo. I got a lake in there that won't give anything up. And what I _do_ know . . . even that might not be true. What I know and what I got is now, just the moment. That's where I live." His fingers gingerly traced the carved circle in his chest. "Yeah, he stabbed me, I felt it. I thought I was dead. How I lived, I don't know. Maybe . . . I got a skeleton, okay, made of metal. Unbreakable metal, they tell me. But those swords, they can cut through anything." He stepped back, stuffing his hands into tattered pockets. "But maybe that's not true either. Maybe the metal interrupted the blade so that it just nicked my heart, skipped it and kept going. Maybe I heal better than I think I can." His body was fading into the shrouded layers, until only his face could be seen clearly, his eyes catching the remaining glimmers of scant light, the shadows deepening the lines around his mouth until it seemed ready to howl. If only a voice might hear. "But I've found in this world, you don't question why you're still alive. You just accept it and do the best you can with it. Because those kinds of questions don't lead anywhere good." He was receding from them, the shadows taking his words and threatening to have them smothered. "Because you start wondering why you're still here, it makes you ask why other people aren't. And there ain't no rhyme or reason to it, it's just the world, the way it is. You start thinking it's any other way, you'll drive yourself crazy." At the bottom of the stairs he was so small, a hardened shard in the emptiness. "I have to keep going until I can't anymore. What other choice do I have?"

And then he was gone, an evaporated stain. The last vestiges of his words echoed to them, borne upwards as if celebrating a newfound release.

Solo and the Insepton said nothing, didn't even look at each other. Nearby the sword finally reached the floor and stayed, the hilt stopping it from cutting further. He felt his pulse settling finally, the comedown after the fight, the rattle in his bones that stayed long after he had landed, vibrating to the vacuum music. Solo remembered the first time he came back to ground and how wrong it felt, to be so anchored. The sky had never seemed so far, the stars stripped of their clearness and replaced by an atmospheric haze. And the voices, so dense and low, everyone standing close together and never letting their gazes soar, having all the space in creation and using it only to cling tightly to each other. The drunk next to him had caught sight of his uniform and said, _What it's like being trapped in a metal death box all day?_ with the laugh of a life scraped raw. And he had wanted to shout back, _It's you, you're the ones who are trapped, it's all out there and you'll never leave, you'll never see any of it_. He almost had punched the man before realizing it wouldn't do any good. It never would, their orbits were locked and they'd never deviate from it. A punch could never knock a world out of its path, it would only hurt his hand.

So instead he had run outside, gasping from lungs that felt pierced, dropped to his knees in the middle of the street just to vomit everything he had drank that evening. While the stars watched him overhead, saying, _See, they won't understand, they never will_. _Because they don't look up._ The world had never been so compressed, the walls just inches from his face so that he could see his own breath condensing on its surface. Life leaving the body, smeared in inches. _Up here, all you have is forever_.

How long he had stayed there, he didn't know. Was that the day the gang tried to rob him, when he almost caught the knife in the ribs? Maybe. But if that was the case, who had saved him? Fragments of a bulky roar, seen through a blood-lined strobed haze. Did that happen? Was that the day he first met-

Solo shook himself, wondering how the memory had become dislodged, seeing it shimmer and vanish even as he tried to grab hold of it. But all he felt was a lingering wetness and the notion that too much could only drown you if you went too deeply. Everyone left, that was true. He had gone and others had gone from him. And what were the chances of your roaming trajectories meeting again, out in those boundless zones? Solo couldn't say, standing there on the steps, he didn't know what else _to_ say.

"Hey," a voice called out from below, rough and _there_, "are you jokers going to contemplate all day, or are we going to get the hell out of here and get this over with finally?"

_That'll do._ The peevishness of Logan's voice, so far and insistent, made him laugh, deeper than he could and more than was normally able. _For now, it will_.

And he was still laughing as he went down the stairs, with a confused Insepton trailing in his wake.

* * * * *

The way out was without incident, but it was the leaving that nearly caught them.

Every floor of the building was now infused with a glistening silence, a hush that reminded Solo of the first time he had crashed, out on Jova's Iceworld. The ship had gone down and when he finally emerged from the wreckage he fully expected to be greeted by curious natives, or armed soldiers . . . anything but the blanketed quiet that had slipped over the area. Everything was covered in snow, it flattered all contours, smothered all noises. More had been falling even as he stood there, coating him, covering the landscape and erasing all features, and for a time he thought if he remained there long enough he would be erased as well, simply reduced to a blankness and wiped from creation.

He had screamed, simply to prove that sound still existed, and was still shouting when a squad finally arrived to rescue him. Every so often he'd wake to that kind of quiet on the _Falcon_, when the ship had gone dormant and they were gently floating, and think he was back there, bellowing at a flat sky, waiting for someone to answer his calls. It always made him cold, no matter what the temperature was.

"Anybody left in here?" Solo asked as he strode next to Logan, the other man moving easily through the hollowed corridors and empty hallways, the only solid person in a world now stuffed too full with ghosts. The bodies were hardly substantial now, just decoration, furnishings for a future day when functionality became a false word.

"Nah," Logan said, although his eyes kept searching and seeking, probing into corners drenched in shadows, seeming to stare around corners and into locked rooms. "They all either ran in the excitement . . . or they're dead. But mostly dead, I'd guess."

Solo kept his laser at the ready anyway. Just in case. "The Dark Riders are all gone, then. You think?"

Logan shrugged. "As far as I can tell. A whole mess of them came at me . . ." his voice only hiccupped slightly at the memory, ". . . I can't imagine they stuck many more on the port. But something with them, I can't tell if they're around until they're real close. So there might be." He spit, as if unused to all this talking. "And if there are, we'll deal with them."

Lagging behind, the Insepton said, "I doubt they'll send any more. With the number of them present already, any further incursion is bound to start attracting the attention of forces the Dark Riders do not particularly wish to deal with."

Solo glanced back at the alien. "What the hell do you think those guys might be afraid of?"

"There is much that goes on in these times that we're not aware of," was all the Insepton said. Logan snorted, only shaking his head.

But Solo couldn't help but prod. "Sounds like you're talking from experience there, pal."

"Fortunately, no," the Insepton replied with a sigh in its voice that might have been relief. "But one travels and one hears rumors. The Universe has its own clatter and often we don't hear the sound of the mechanisms grinding beneath it, or the efforts of those who keep the gears moving. There are stories of armies that slither through time and erase wars before they begin, soldiers that strike sideways and cities just out of step. The same names whispered over and over again, in backalleys and bars, when they think that nobody else is listening."

They were in the front lobby again. The walls were scarred, marked with parallel slashes, smooth and shallow. But nothing else moved in the area and no sounds emerged.

"Give us a name, then," Logan said suddenly, one hand on the remains of the front door, still shattered from before. Gravity acting on the buckled metal must have pulled it back inward, the two halves fitting together awkwardly. "You talk like you're trying to impress us, but all I hear are tall tales." He laughed hoarsely, pushing the portal open. "And people have tried to feed me a lot of stories in my day, bub, and I've found that most of them ain't worth the breath wasted on them. As entertainment, maybe, but as truth . . ." he shrugged, leaning into it.

The Insepton had the grace not to look miffed at the outburst. "I assure you," it said, "no amount of imagination can disguise the fact that there is quite possibly a real Time Pat-"

Dingy light seeped in from outside, bringing with it absences shaped as people, the shadows loping back to their origins not too distant from the door. The Insepton stopped and skittered back a step, even as Logan and Solo both paused on opposite sides of the opening.

"I'd like you bastards to stop right where you are," the stormtrooper said, as the others with him, numbering perhaps ten, all pointed their rifles at the trio. The air was ringing with the tingling whining of the charging weapons. "Because I _will_ shoot you and I will make sure you are shot somewhere that won't kill you but will hurt like hell. I'd like for you to come out with your hands over your heads and weaponless." He raised his own laser to his shoulder, aiming it directly at Solo. "I've just made a promise, I'd prefer you not force me to enact it.

Han Solo and Logan exchanged glances. "You want to go first, or should I?" Solo asked, holding his own laser loosely.

"Let me," Logan said, and Solo gestured grandly with one arm, indicating that he should start. Without hesitating, Logan stalked over to the nearest soldier, the one who had been speaking. Immediately the man shifted his laser so that the barrel was directly aimed at Logan's head, although the other man didn't flinch at all.

"That's enough," the stormtrooper said, as the others followed suit. The spaces all around were suffused with the gradually rising chiming. Logan didn't cease. "I _said_, that's far enough."

Logan stood inches away from the man. "No," he said, close enough that his breath formed as condensation on the trooper's visor, "it's not nearly enough." The words came out as a growl, barely language anymore, reaching back into the primordial.

"I give the order and you're sporting a hole in your head. Back _off_, now."

"Listen to me," and his voice was the sound of blood rushing to the surface, "a lot of people have died today. Good people, terrible people, some guys who asked for it and a lot who didn't. But they are _it_. Do you hear me?" The blank expression of the soldier's helmet revealed nothing. His arms remained steady, the hole of the gun's barrel unblinking. "Don't make me add you to it."

"I can't let you go." The trooper seemed almost apologetic. "I'm sorry, but we just can't."

Logan leaned on the man, forcing him to rock back a step. His arm was braced on the soldier's shoulder, his hand curled into a fist right near his neck. But the skin on top of his hand remained intact, with the splitting not forming. When he spoke again his voice was a whisper comprised of hammers. "Everyone in that building behind us thought the same damn thing. And now they're all dead." His fingers twitched, and almost absently he cracked a knuckle. The trooper had the decency to not be startled by the noise. "If you follow through with this, what makes you think that your chances are any better?"

The two of them stared at each other for near a full minute, the other stormtroopers not budging, their weapons never wavering. Logan's breathing was steady and calm, his eyes searching the trooper without revealing what he saw.

Eventually he nodded to himself and disengaged himself from the soldier. "I thought as much," was all he said, before starting to walk away right into the midst of the others.

"Halt!" someone called out, even as Solo found himself getting ready to duck.

"Then shoot me!" Logan called out, without changing direction or breaking stride. He was staring straight ahead, his gaze intent on places beyond. "If you think you can handle what'll happen next, then just do it!" He reached the center of the line and as if on a pre-arranged signal the stormtroopers broke formation and shifted to either side, leaving Logan with no obstacles. They kept their weapons trained on him, moving in perfect synchronization and achieving a bent semi-circle bristling outward.

"Sir?" a voice inquired.

In the meantime Solo had crossed the distance to stand next to the lead stormtrooper. "Go ahead," Solo cooed, and this time the soldier did react in surprise, "go right ahead and shoot him. But as you do, remember this . . ." he put his mouth closer to the man's ear, as if sharing a secret, "all those dead in the building, what he didn't mention was that he killed them. With his bare hands if he could. All because one of them stabbed him." He stepped away, patted the trooper on the shoulder. "Oh, and I should probably tell you . . . he's on _my_ payroll." Smiling sarcastically, he held out his hands as if inviting comment. When none came he slid his hands into his pockets, backed away for maybe three more steps before turning around smartly on his heel and moving swiftly to catch up to Logan.

"Solo." The soldier didn't speak until he was well past the others but there was a note in his voice that made Solo stop. Slowly, he pivoted to find all the lasers still pointed at him, the lead stormtrooper seen through the gap, his own weapon lowered. "Don't."

"How many did you lose today?" Solo asked fervently, flinging his words across. He stood easy and poised, in contrast to their stiffened postures. "Did you even count? Do you even care?" He regarded them with a bit of sadness that didn't feel right. "What they want you to get from me, I'm telling you, it's not worth it."

"That's not up to you, or us, to decide," came the response.

"It's a lost cause. For both of us. And I want it over." With a sudden burst of sincerity, he added, "Let this go. While we can still walk away from it."

Nobody said anything and the quiet stretched into a longer silence. Solo looked at each one of the soldiers in turn and then without another word walked away again, his pace brisk. Any second he expected to get a laser in the back, but none came.

"Eighty-nine." The number came flying out at him, splattering against his back as old fruit. Did he stop, or had they come closer. He didn't dare face them again. It could bring the conflict back to bear. "Your partner, he kill all those bastards? I know you talk a lot of garbage, Solo, but this one time you best tell me the truth."

Solo felt his mouth go dry. "Yeah, it was him. He got them."

He could _hear_ the stormtrooper's nod of assent, small and torn. But that might be enough in this world, all that was allowed. "Then I think that's worth something right there. It's worth a five minute head-start, so use it wisely." He had fallen into the first step when the stormtrooper's voice lashed out again. "But, Solo, don't you ever _dare_ imply that we don't keep track. Because we always have, and the next time I see you, whether it's a half hour or ten years from now, I _will_ shoot you. I don't care if you're transporting orphans to the galactic fair. Am I understood?"

"Perfectly," Solo said, his angle hiding his smile. "As long as you remember, one shot is all you're going to get." He gave a jaunty wave over his shoulder and took off in a run. "But it was a pleasure chatting with you boys."

"Five minutes, Solo!" the trooper shouted, the reminder echoing in the spacious quiet. But Solo was already past and out, locked in a trajectory that none of them would be able to intersect.

"Is there a certain quota of bravado you have to fulfill each day?" the Insepton wondered, popping up out of literally nowhere, causing Solo to almost stumble out of his stride. "Or are you just not happy unless people are pointing guns at you?"

"Where the hell did you come from?" Solo asked, doing his best not to glance behind him.

"Oh, I went around the stormtroopers while you and Logan were trying to prove who could put themselves in more immediate danger. Fortunately, soldiers are not used to looking down." The alien sounded a bit proud of itself. "Although I suppose I should thank you for the distraction."

"Any time," Solo remarked dryly. Logan was a little further up ahead, his pace having not slackened noticeably. Solo resisted the urge to call out to the other man, suspecting that Logan was quite aware of where they were and how far away they lagged behind. Besides, he couldn't pilot the ship anyway. "Did you happen to notice which of us won, though?"

"I'm sorry?"

"The macho contest. Because otherwise we're going to have to go back and do it all over again," Solo deadpanned. The Insepton almost stopped walking and Solo just shrugged, his face serious. "We've got to be certain, you know. It's important." He let the Insepton stare at him for a few seconds before bursting out laughing, the sound careening through the crooked metal of the sector, ricocheting off itself to come back looped into its own chorus.

The alien shook its head and made a noise that was quite probably a sigh. "Humans. Really."


	7. Home is a Place You Can Go

Full title: Home is a Place You Can Go But Not All At Once

Sorry for the long delay, as anyone reading further down will find out I had some formatting issues that I was trying to resolve. Unfortunately there was no easy way to do it, and what I did come up with was a compromise that still may not look right. In any event, when you get to the section with a lot of periods, mentally erase those and that's what the layout is kind of supposed to look like.

But here we are at the end. Thanks to everyone for reading, for putting up with a lot of characters that they'd probably never heard of, and for the nice responses I've gotten so far. For a story I essentially made up as I went along based on someone's idle question of "What if Wolverine met Han Solo . . .", it didn't turn out so badly.

And we're done. And out.

* * *

  
"I hope I speak for everyone when I say that I'm glad we're not dead," Solo said as he hit the button that opened the airlock, sweeping back into the familiar environs of its own ship. The way back had been uneventful for once, the port seeming to have drawn into itself, perhaps bracing for more assaults or just starting to recover from the ones that had been foisted on it. With the barrier down, Solo had expected the Empire to flood the port with more troops, simply as a show of force, but that hadn't happened. Any stormtroopers they had seen were simply entrenched, either awaiting further orders or getting ready to move off-port. In either case, they were easily avoided and didn't seem at all interested in stopping anyone. Returning to the Comout's sector, the empty quiet of it was almost a relief from the near oppressive silence that marked the rest of the port. Here, it was peaceful, while out there it simply too much like cowering.

Even though he fully expected the ship to be there, his footsteps still quickened as they came closer to where it had been docked. After all they'd gone through, to have it not be there would have been a blow to his day that he wasn't sure he could recover from. It seemed like months since he had last set foot inside his own ship and had been able to fly. It was time to go. No, better, it was time to get the hell out of here.

But the ship had remained where they had left it, as intact as ever. "Hey there," he said quietly to it, patting the hull as the baydoors opened to allow them entrance. "Told you I'd be back."

"I'll be glad when we're off this port," the Insepton commented. "How soon will you be able to take off."

"Only a couple minutes once we're fired up. As long as . . ." Solo ducked around the corner where the engineering consoles were kept. When he came back around he was flashing a triumphant grin. "Yes! Something actually went right for once. The engines are reprogrammed from whatever the Dark Riders were doing to it. We should be clear as soon . . ." Possessed of a sudden manic energy he started dashing around the cockpit, flicking switches and hitting buttons, while around them the ship began to roar into life, a slow humming at first. Lights blinked on and a subtle rumbling could be felt in the floor as the engines began to engage. It was a beast rising from an enforced sleep and ready to lift free again. The port, although it was out of view, suddenly seemed too close and too encasing, a box that kept them in and the rest of the Universe out.

"And this place is clean?" Logan said, sniffing the air. He was stalking about in curved paths, as if he were still dodging projectiles, a subtle slow dance. "We got no more surprises?"

"Don't think so," Solo said, sliding into a seat with a leap, hitting more buttons with a practiced flair. "I took the liberty of setting up the motion sensors before we left last time. And as far as I can tell . . ." he tapped the computer and called up a schematic of the ship, narrowing his eyes as he peered at it closely. With a wave of his hand he dismissed the image. "Until us, the only thing that's been moving on this old boat has been dust." The humming of the ship reached a slightly higher pitch, one that caused Solo to break out in an even wider grin. "And on that note, we are _clear_, gentlemen."

A few more switches and there was a bump as the ship detached from the port. Solo eased the controls to the side, reveling in the feel of it, the sense that he wasn't constrained by direction anymore, that up and down were simply concepts that could be ignored at his leisure and that no matter where he pointed the ship he would find a kind of adventure, or at least something interesting.

The _Falcon_ lurched a bit as it drifted free of the port, Solo gently guiding it so that it was a safe enough distance to do a hyperjump. The viewscreen opened up wide, showing him a clear view of the stars ahead, glimmering and clustered and so very distant. The port lay a bit to the right and below, an angular hulk gradually receding. Various fragments of debris still floated around the mass of it, both space garbage and remnants of the battle from before. The pointed tail of a Comout craft drifted past, trailed by smaller particles that could have been any number of things but Solo swore to himself weren't bodies.

"I don't see the Star Destroyer," the Insepton noted, sliding closer. It seemed both calmer and more jittery, perhaps waiting for another obstacle to come up in its path, or simply feeling the closeness of what it sought.

"No, it's still out there . . ." Solo tapped another readout that showed a larger dot pulsating not too far away. "It's just on the other side of the port. I don't think they've noticed us and frankly I'm not about to give them a chance to. We should in place for a lightspeed jump in about . . . oh, less than a minute."

Logan walked over to the other chair, leaning on the back with his arms draped around it. He appeared to be trying to steady himself in place, as if the artificial gravity hadn't taken hold of him just yet. "Quite the ship you got here, Solo." Tapping the chair itself, he added, "You sure you don't need a co-pilot for this thing, though?"

Solo didn't react at first, his gaze going somewhere straight, far past the stars. "Yeah, well," he said offhandedly, "it helps, makes the trip go a little bit smoother but on easy runs an experienced professional like myself can handle it. A second set of eyes never hurts, especially with navigation. But I know where we're going, so all we really need is me." The ship jerked slightly, everyone shifting as if by instinct. Solo frowned and adjusted some parameters. "A little bit of solar wind, nothing to be concerned about." Looking over at Logan again, he said, "When this is over, I've got to go collect my partner and then we're off on the next run. I'll need him for that, trade routes are tricky. And besides, how much vacation can I give him?"

"Hm," was all Logan said. His expression was unreadable, seeming to stare not at the stars themselves but the voided absences between them. The view slid by placidly, the port was now out of sight, the rest of it all behind them.

Then Logan straightened up, stepping away from the chair. "This vessel got a head? If you're all going to stare at the sky for the rest of the trip, I'm going to try to clean myself up."

Without turning, Solo said, "Take the freight lift in the back of the ship, there's a washroom in the lower deck. It's not much but it'll get the job done. And don't use all the water, it's recycled and I really don't want to have to be drinking your processed sweat." He craned his neck to stare back at Logan. "You sure you don't want to stick around for the jump? It's something to see."

"Nah, I've had enough spaceships for one day." Logan stepped away, stretching his arms and cracking his back as he did so. Even with the lowered ceiling his fingertips barely brushed against it. "Yell for me when we get to wherever it is that we're going."

"You're missing out," Solo responded with a humor to his voice that didn't translate to his face. Sinking into his chair, he added in a quieter voice, "_I_ never get tired of it."

"Good for you," Logan said from halfway across the ship, causing Solo to jump, not realizing that he had heard. A second later there was a deeper rattling as the elevator activated, taking Logan a half-level below the ship.

Solo merely stared out at the vista before him, hands folded under his chin and saying nothing. Then he seemed to rouse himself, leaning forward to hit a few more switches as the ship's engines increased yet again. "Everyone brace yourself for a jump," he said automatically.

"Excellent," the Insepton said from somewhere below him. Then with a quick motion it leapt onto the co-pilot's chair, curling up its long body so that it was level with Solo. The eyestalks stared at him unblinkingly. "But before you do that, and with Logan out of the way, I think it's time you and I had a small chat."

* * * * *

Turns out the belowdeck had a shower, which Logan didn't want to admit was the closest thing he had to sheer pleasure in months. As Solo had said, it wasn't that large but neither was he, so he got by. And compared to some of the places he had found himself lately, just the notion of running water put it head and shoulders above them.

Stepping out from the unit still dripping wet, he groped about looking for something resembling a towel, wondering if this was one of those ships that used vacuum or some kind of weird heat ray to drive people off. He hoped that Solo wouldn't mind the pool of dirty and blood streaked water he had left behind but it appeared to be draining away quickly. He made a mental note to not drink any of the ship's water for a few hours, if he was even on board for that long. His wounds from before had healed but it was nice to have all the caked on dirt and the rest finally washed off. His fingers absently probed at his skin, finding all the places where wounds had once been. He always seemed to be able to pinpoint exactly where he'd been hurt, even when his body covered up all traces. Maybe the nerves remembered, or perhaps it was his body's way of reminding him of all the times he wasn't fast enough. And how it wouldn't take much for him to never be fast again.

But right now the only thing he wanted to do quickly was get dry.

"What's he do, spin in place?" Logan wondered outloud, swearing as his search turned up nothing. There wasn't much to the lower deck, a simple hallway leading from the elevator, and a few rooms that appeared to be used for cargo storage. The room with the shower had an antechamber of sorts where he had left all his clothing. But he certainly wasn't going to dress again while soggy, there had to be a better way.

"Come on, you can figure this out." He went back into the shower, examining the buttons again. He had gotten the water started purely by accident, but maybe this button here . . .

A howling gale suffused with a tropical temperature sprang up in the small space as the door to the shower abruptly shut, the whole enclosure filling up with air, too much air, hands made of heat and knives crafted from warmth stabbing at him, coating him, he needed to get out before it smothered him in too many layers of blankets, he needed to _just get the hell out of-_

And just like it was over. Logan blinked, his ears still hearing the faint whistling that the wind had conjured up. But, he noticed, he was completely dry, his skin tingling with the gradual dissipation of heat. His hair felt like it was all standing on end, both from the residual static electricity and the buffeting it had just received. _This must be what cats must feel like when they get caught in the dryer_, he thought wryly.

It was then that he realized he had driven his claws through the door. Gingerly, he slid them back out, letting the blades retract into his hand. _Tell him to take it out of my paycheck_, Logan noted. He cast one glance back at the shower buttons, wondering what the hell he had done wrong. Apparently the heater had various settings and if the dial was any judge, it had been set on the highest recently. _Who the hell needed that much heat to dry off? Solo washing bears in here?_

Though he had to admit, now that it was over, he felt much better. He had never minded much getting dirty, with his life it was inevitable and even welcome sometimes. But it made him feel a little less like an animal to be clean again. Some days that bothered him more than others.

His clothes were still draped over the table where he had left them. For some reason he expected them not to be there, although he didn't think Solo was one for practical jokes. He'd have his hands full piloting this thing anyway. Logan slid his pants and boots back on. Most of his shirt had already been torn away in the fighting, and he looked at the tatters of it with some distaste. His jacket wasn't much better, and he could feel rips in it against his bare skin as he tugged it on. But at least it was still mostly intact. He ran his fingers over the worn fabric of his shirt, feeling the weary thininess of it and marveling at the damage done. Shouldn't have there been some place in this ship that repaired crap like that? Wasn't it supposed to be more advanced out here, the shows the kids watched all the time at the mansion had people hitting buttons and new clothes just sliding out of vending machines. They were always begging him to watch TV with them, like he knew anything about that stuff. He'd have to tell them how it really was when he got back. Wouldn't they all be surprised, especially-

With an inverted gasp he dropped the shirt, let it fall to the table. Hands still poised in the air while gripping nothing, his breathing seemed to cease. He refused to move as the seconds stretched out, became other times.

Suddenly, in a haphazardly sharp motion he emitted a strangled roar that trembled as his body strove to keep it in, flinging the shirt off the table and into the corner as he moved into the opposite direction, not stopping until he hit the wall just inside of the doorway, hitting it so that his hands were driven up into his face, fingers pressed into his forehead as if he could claw out a memory.

His body shook tightly, with only the single soft whimper emerging, a feather falling amongst crushed glass. Face hidden, he revealed everything.

Around him the ship shuddered quietly, perhaps in sympathy. He barely noticed the lurching moment.

Finally he gave one last taut jerk, speaking "_Ah_" as he pushed himself away from the wall with some effort. "Dammit," he whispered, less a word than a prediction, even as he rubbed one hand painfully over his face.

"All right," he said, both announcement and action. "Okay." But nobody was convinced.

It was then that he heard the voices.

* * * * *

Solo settled back into his chair, keeping his face very still and his voice casually light. "Sure," he said, doing his best to not make eye contact with the Insepton. "What did you want to talk about? I have to tell you, we're not going to have a lot of time, the jump isn't going to take that long."

"I'm aware of how long hyperspace jumps take," the alien replied stiffly. Reflections of stars mottled its skin, making it seem as if tiny holes had been poked into its body. "And it's not the period before the jump that concerns me but what happens after it."

"What happens is that we're finally rid of each other." Solo couldn't keep the ice out of his voice. "You sound like you're going to miss me."

The Insepton shivered slightly. "Oh, there's little chance of _that_ happening, trust me. But I must ask you this question and I wish for you to think carefully before you answer . . ." it leaned forward a little and Solo was struck by how much it smelled like he always imagined space would, of old dust strewn among impossible curves, of vast speeds and crawling time. _What the hell? That made no sense_. He hoped Logan wasn't starting to rub off on him. That would make this whole affair just perfect. "Is this truly it, Han Solo? When you make this jump, will we finally be there?"

"You think I'm stalling for time." Only the damn alien could make him feel uncomfortable in his own ship. The first time he had ever sat in this chair he had thought he was putting on a well-worn jacket, exactly tailored to his specifications. _Fastest damn ship around_, they had told him when he won it. And he had gone and made it faster. Not just faster, better. But it hadn't been just him. The notion clung to him and refused to let go. He wasn't sure if it made this easier or harder. "After all that's happened, you think I want this to go on longer?"

"I think what you want and what I want are two separate things." It slithered off the chair, pacing around the forward cabin. It feet made rapid tapping noises on the metal floor, almost approximating Solo's pulse. "I have always been clear since the start what I want . . . the _forsgalai_ returned to us. Nothing else is important and nothing else ever will be. We are potentially a single leap from it." It was behind the chair but he could feel its eyes boring into his back. "Or _are_ we, Solo?"

He resisted the urge to spin around and glare at it over the back of the chair. Absently, he double checked the coordinates, running over them in his memory, perhaps hoping that he could find some gap, some hazy recollection that might cast doubt. Something that would get him out of this. "If you're going to accuse me of something," he said, trying to make his voice as tough as possible, "then just do it. Don't dance around waiting for me to admit something."

"Very well." Its voice was elsewhere but suddenly its eyes were bobbing right around the arm of his chair, where he least expected it. He nearly pulled every muscle in his body to keep from leaping away in surprise. "I shall be blunt. Are you going to kill me before we reach the _forsgalai_?"

Even though he had expected some variation of the question, it still caught him off guard. "What . . . _no_. No, what the hell . . . where did you get that idea from?"

"It is simply logic." The Insepton's eyes bounced downwards, and he could hear its feet again. If his own legs weren't so tired Solo would have stood up so at least he could look at the damn thing. But he also had to keep an eye on the coordinates. That was a lie. The coordinates were set. All he had to do was press the button and trigger the jump. But his hand was nowhere near it. What was stopping him? "From the start you have never planned on returning it to my people. I am the only witness and your only obstacle. Killing me would make all of this much easier. I'm surprised you haven't done it yet, honestly."

"I'm not going to kill you." The words were dried paste in his mouth.

"That's reassuring. Then . . . what are you going to do?" There was a gentle probe in the alien's words, the mad sense that it was goading Solo into killing it, simply to prove that its own fears were correct.

"Get this over with, finally." He felt a flash of irritation at having to explain himself to the Insepton and that it wasn't going to truly believe him, no matter what. He had always been a scoundrel, he would admit that readily, but he had always seen himself as a straight one, consistent in his actions. There was never a time when he had killed in cold blood, not even for expedience. It was bad business and worse practice. _I can prove it. I'll prove it to you._ The gesture hovered, locked.

The Insepton leaned forward, eyeing the console readouts. "Are these the coordinates, then? Is this our final destination?" It still sounded doubtful, which only made him angrier. _How dare you?_

But admitting it was getting onto a road with no exits. "Yeah." His chest felt cold and tight. _You can prove it_. _In seconds._

"Ah." The Insepton shivered slightly, as if the very notion of the artifact's location gave it a tiny thrill. "And yet, you haven't said what you're going to do when we get there."

He felt his teeth grinding together. _Take the step and prove it_. Where the hell was Logan? _Go on_. He couldn't take the stillness any longer. The world needed to _move_ again or he'd risk being anchored for good. _What exactly are you afraid of?_

"Solo?" It asked, pricked. _What, exactly? _"I said, what are we-"

"Why don't we find out?" he snapped, almost slamming down on the button.

Immediately he was slammed back into his seat while outside the stars bent and stretched into impossible lines.

* * * * *

It was whispers. Close. Too quiet for being that close, which was the strangest part. Seeming to travel on sinuous lines of voice, he couldn't identify the source as other than near. Dark Riders, again? Solo had said the ship was clear but there was no reason another couldn't have teleported in since they had arrived.

Carefully he ventured out into the corridor, the hairs on the back of his neck sticking up. He had been in worse danger before, in firefights so fierce that the air itself melted and dripped down due to all the bullets flying overhead. And the sibilant kind as well, stalking down shadowed backways in Calcutta while being tracked by Smoke Assassins, their pinched quick whistles following him as targeted darts. This was only a ship and these were only voices. He would be fine. Even so, he let his claws slide out anyway, as slowly as possible, ignoring the gradual splitting pain that resulted from bringing them out at that speed.

The hallway wasn't long and even creeping up against the wall he could only see one other door. It was open and there was some pale light spilling out from it into the hallway. None of it was broken by shadows, so if someone was in the room they were in the tightest corner or otherwise obscuring themselves. But if they were taking that much trouble, then talking outloud was a foolish mistake. Something was wrong, here. But was it the kind of wrong that might get him killed?

Almost at the door and the voices hadn't gotten any louder. Were they receding even. The lights were flickering faintly, at so rapid a cycling speed that the eye almost couldn't follow it properly. His ears were trying to find words, to turn the sounds into fragments that he could relate to. Sometimes his head tumbled with jagged languages, glottal stops falling into angular vowels, and he had no idea how he knew them or where they had first been heard. By now, he simply ignored it.

But this. This. On the outskirts of the entryway it finally came to him.

"_. . . never thought we'd get out of that . . ._"

_Who . . . how is that possible?_ He knew that voice. He _knew_ it.

One arm pointed at the ground defensively, Logan peeked around the corner.

And stopped.

* * * * *

"Not your smoothest jump," the Insepton commented, rolling back onto its feet from where it had fallen.

"What can I say, you make me nervous," Solo countered, heaving himself out of his seat. "Though my hopes that this jump was going to make you stop your complaining were apparently wrong." The same view from before greeted them, at least to the casual observer but Solo could tell that everything had changed. It wasn't the stars themselves that you had to read, he had learned that a long time ago. It was the gaps between the stars that were important, the voids that existed, each having its own particular shape and texture. Stars were all the same in theory, hot balls of gas that would eventually burn out. But the darkness would never leave and that was where all the mystery lay. The places beyond that you'd never see. That was navigation's true leap.

"If all goes well you won't have to hear me complain for much longer, Solo."

Solo flicked some switches, letting the ship bank gently. "I really hope you don't get offended when I say that I'd like that quite a bit."

"Not at all," the Insepton responded almost pleasantly. It was wandering about the ship almost aimlessly, briefly stripped of the purpose that so often guided it. "It's strange, Solo, I expected to feel more of a sense of anticipation upon reaching this moment. A quickening within myself, perhaps. Instead, it feels much the same. I feel much the same." Across the ship it turned to stare at him. "Tell me, have you ever encountered that? Coming so close to what you've strived for that you can stand on the edge of it and not know the difference?"

"I couldn't tell you," Solo said, bending over to tinker with the controls. He should have been sitting for this, but he needed to feel the motion of the ship under his feet, the slick roll of space sliding by. "I've never wanted anything that badly."

The Insepton made a clicking noise. "That is not true. Everyone wishes for something, you just have not realized it yet. Or you deny it, because you feel it is a sign of weakness to _want_. A loss of control." It wrung its hands together, tapping arrhythmically on the floor. "In a way, we have no choice, my people. From the earliest days in the nest we are subjected to the notion of the _forsgalai_, the piece that is missing from us, the hole that exists in everything that we are. I do not think it is a coincidence that our birthers leave us only days after we've emerged from this world. It becomes very cold and we quickly become hungry. But from there we are on our own, and scattered. All that lingers are the dreams." It looked down, stiffened for a moment. "I've never spoken to anyone else of my race, Solo. Does that surprise you?"

"Not from what I've heard about you. You're not exactly party people." His hand kept caressing the top of his laser but that was just a reflex. It was just a reflex.

"Indeed." If the Insepton found humor in this, it didn't indicate. "I do not think about my fellows often, not as individuals. But if I did get a chance to talk to them, to ask them . . . I would ask them if they dream as well. If they dream as I do, of the _forsgalai_ and its closeness, the near-closeness of it, always just out of reach. It lingers when I rest, as if cursing me for daring to halt, even for a second." One hand was closed into a fist, waving at nothing but air. "Sometimes I feel that it is just me, but the dream has to be shared, does it not? We are all seeking the same end." The fist uncurled, pressed into the floor. "Perhaps even in our sameness, I wish to be unique."

Solo didn't know what else to say. "Don't we all?"

The Insepton crawled back over to him. "Ah, but I'm making you uncomfortable. It's this day, the strangeness of it . . . it drives me to confession, a feeling I am not used to." It pressed past him, lifting itself up on the console so that it could see clearer out the viewscreen. "But I suspect it will be over soon." The eyes strained, moving closer to the glass. "Where is it, though, Solo?" There was a ragged eagerness to its voice, a lost note being woven into a shambling symphony. "This was it, you said." For a moment it really did sound alone. "So why don't I see it?"

"Hold on," Solo said, sliding the controls so that the ship banked one more time. "Don't be so damn impatient." The stars curved again, silent and precise, moving only by staying still.

"But where is-"

And that's when it came into view.

* * * * *

A low gurgling roar sifted the air, but Logan was in no danger.

Even standing in the doorway the room revealed itself to him in stages, peeling back darkened edges from his vision. It was bare but for storage, the walls and floor scrubbed surprisingly free of dust.

"_Can you tell me where the hell they came from? This was supposed to be an unmarked run. A whole squadron, why didn't you see them, weren't you paying attention to-"_

The trembling trill again. There was a droid in the opposite corner from Logan, although it wasn't making the noise, not directly.

"_Yeah, I know, I'm a little . . . I'm a bit rattled. The Empire's getting to be all over the place these days. Word is they're starting to declare some zones martially controlled and using it as an excuse to blow up whoever they want._"

The small droid was rounded on the top, but squarish on the rest of the body. At least as far as Logan could tell, since it had been tipped over and was lying awkwardly propped up against the wall. The metal surface was dinged and dingy in contrast to the rest of the room's near spotlessness.

"_Almost makes a guy want to join the Alliance._" A flurry of snarled noise. "_Whoa, hey, I'm just kidding, I don't want to give them a better excuse to shoot at us. Honest._"

On the floor, the flickering, translucent image of Han Solo shrugged, his body at a forty-five degree angle. Small and fuzzed at the edges, it was definitely him. A tiny lens on the front of the droid appeared to be projecting the tableau, a conical wave of light pouring itself out onto the scene. The droid was cracked in several places and the brightness threatened to dim several times.

"_Let's get our bearings and get the hell out of here. Where did we even jump, I just crammed the first coordinates I could think of into the navigator. I just wanted to get the hell away from those ships, we'll have to make up for lost time. The old girl can handle it though, let's just figure out . . ._"

Hazy as it was, the image was clearly of the _Falcon's_ bridge sketched out in a tinted monochrome, more implied lines than solid curves, miniature ghosts orating in limited space.

"What is this?" Logan whispered, crouching down even as the roar rang out again.

Darting around the shrunken stage with strobed quickness, Solo said, "_I know, I'm lucky I didn't jump us into an asteroid. We're still here, right? Who else would have kept you alive?_"

Tentatively, Logan reached out to touch the image. His hand met no resistance and passed right through, causing small ripples to evolve and fade, although nothing interrupted what he now was starting to realize was a recording of some sort.

A growl like running water being shredded was Solo's answer. This time a tall and impossibly hairy man stepped into view. "_Okay, fine, without me you never would have gotten into any of those messes in the first place. But give me a little credit, your life is a lot more interesting with me around, right?_" Solo went to the edge of the image, reaching over to fiddle with the ship's controls. "_Boy_," he muttered, "_we really are in the middle of nowhere. There's nothing else out here but . . . hm._"

The hairy man swaggered over, almost obscuring the view of Solo. He was talking again, in that cursive bellowing fashion, large arms punctuating whatever point he was trying to make. Even so, Solo was nodding, as if he understood every word. But how was that possible?

"_Yeah, we'll leave in a minute, I just want to see . . . what is that?_"

The shadow fell over him then. No, it didn't, it had always been there. He was just noticing it now. How could it cast a shadow, when the light source was nowhere near it, the angle was all wrong. Yet it did, yet it found him, yet it made him look up. It was that simple.

"_Pal, tell me what the _hell_ is that . . ._"

Logan stood up so quickly that his shoulder blades slammed into the wall.

* * * * *

Seeing it was like looking at an abstracted version of an Insepton. Cigar shaped and otherwise featureless, it was merely drifting, its size impossible to tell against the vastness of the space surrounding it.

"There," was all Solo said. His breathing had become shallow and he seemed to be having trouble taking his eyes off it.

The Insepton, meanwhile, looked away sharply, his body rearing backwards. "That . . . that's it." Its words fell apart, sliding back into its own language as it tried to come to terms with its own impressions. "I did not think . . ." its speech rewound, fragments landing into new patterns. "I followed you, Solo, but I am not sure if I ever truly believed. You were always a brash liar, your word hardly to be trusted."

"_Hey_." Solo had the sense of mind to at least appear wounded at the notion.

"But here . . . and _this_." It circled around the main deck, its eyes constantly going back to the object floating out beyond them, ready for it to vanish at any second. "We're in there," it said, voice trembling. "Everything we were, everything that was lost to us in the days since our world was demolished. Our science and our history, images of our homeworld, the way it smelled and the sounds of its crystal seas. Our lineages, right down to the genes." Those eyes bobbed, bored into him. "How did you find it, Solo? How did this happen?"

"An accident." He had to mumble the words. "It was just an accident."

"Countless members of my race have scoured the Universe for this, for millions of years we have been searching. And you just . . . stumble upon it. Did you even realize what it was, at first? Did you have any idea?"

Solo didn't answer right away. "No . . . no, I didn't." He was gently guiding the controls, bringing the ship in closer to the object. As it grew larger on the screen it was easier to gauge its size, perhaps several miles long. The surface of it was smooth, not even pocked with stray meteor collisions. Did it reflect light, or give off a luminescence of its own? "But it's been . . . explained to me since then."

"Ah, yes. The Universe is rife with rumors of it. That's the nature of the missing, of legends." It was stricken with a nervous energy now, darting around the ship without any real sense of direction, its hands starting to go to its face and always dropping back down. "It was no doubt the reason the Empire and the Dark Riders were also after its location. But it would have been no use to them. It's woven into us. That has always been the way."

"Right." Solo spoke flatly. "Well, it's over now. You've found it." The ship was beginning to come along side of it, the closeness of the artifact now dwarfing the smaller ship. "We can all go on."

"Indeed," the Insepton said. Somehow, it didn't sound convinced. It stopped in the middle of the deck, staring at Solo's back. "So tell me this . . . how were you planning on taking it away from us, then?"

At the controls, Solo froze.

* * * * *

". . . _looks old, whatever it is. Never seen anything like it before, have you?_"

The other corner held it hidden. Somehow. It didn't seem possible, he had looked at every angle when he came in and yet he had never seen it. Flickering out of phase, perhaps? Those words didn't mean anything to him. Logan shook his head, slowly beginning to cross the room.

"_Makes you wonder where it came from. There's no inhabited worlds nearby, nothing of any note . . . that anomaly could be a black hole but . . ."_ The image fizzed as Logan stepped through it, his footsteps otherwise making no sound.

The hairy man coughed, a stretched and pinched noise.

It was in the corner, stacked upright. Placed right against the wall, as if it had always been there, or had grown out of the ship.

"_Okay, fine, we won't stay long but . . ._" there was the _tactac_ing of clicking buttons. "_I just want to get a closer look at it._"

Tiny prisms existed within it, captured light that was constantly bouncing inside and hoping to escape. The perfect edges, forming the exact right angles.

"_It might be some kind of alien artifact, you know_."

Tall and rectangular, it was. Right up against. Logan stood there and it was hardly present. He had to make himself _see_.

"_You don't run into that just every day, that means something_."

Gingerly, he reached out a hand and touched the surface of it. Cool, hardly registering under his fingertips. Solid but cloudy, perhaps made of crystal.

"_And hey, to the right people, who knows what it could be worth? Right?_"

Then the cloudiness resolved, or maybe his vision cleared or perhaps a new kind of focus was found.

"_Don't you agree, pal?_"

The growl came down as an avalanche, ricocheted.

And a hairy face stared out from the crystal block at Logan.

* * * * *

"What?" Solo turned around and stared at the Insepton, his hands braced against the console, his stance both casual and stiff. "Getting what you want has made you delusional."

"If only," the Insepton replied, coming forward. Even rapidly, it did so cautiously, forming a grim curve around Solo. On the ship they were both trapped but it was a question of who was more confined. "Do not play me for a fool, Solo. You had plans for this when I first encountered you. You had gone back to this ship with Logan with every intention of leaving. If I was not _here_ now, you would still be here."

"Plans change." He looked about to say more but stopped himself.

"And this entire time you have made no attempts to rid yourself of me." It twitched, slapping its hands together loosely. "Which suggests to me that you believe you will be able to follow your original intentions even with me present." Solo lifted a hand to speak but the Insepton cut him off. "I imagine you wanted to sell it, even before you totally understood what it was. You are a merchant, Solo, I know what drives you. Money does, and the prospect of it. It makes your motivations patently obvious."

"Guess you've got me pegged," Solo replied, his face betraying nothing, as blank as the space outside. "So, now what . . . you going to take over the ship? Is this a mutiny of one?"

"It can hardly be called a mutiny when I was never part of the crew," the alien corrected. "Nor do I have the money to pay you what you might think would be fair. To speak in your own language, as it were. Instead, I shall do this . . ." it nodded, as if composing itself. "I will explain."

"Then talk." Solo folded his arms over his chest. "I'm listening."

"Truly? I hope you are. Have you ever lost anything precious to you, Solo? I suspect you have not, you move through life with the ramshackle care of someone who believes that his time will never arrive." Solo raised an eyebrow at this but said nothing. The Insepton continued, skittering around in fits and starts. "We lost our world through no fault of our own, and with it went a vital piece of ourselves. The _forsgalai_ was the reminder, the link . . . but it was lost. And we had two options available to us, to regroup as a people and try to rebuild ourselves around that missing piece, or put ourselves on hold to find it. We choose the latter, to not lose what we were, so we would not risk becoming something new, and lesser. Do you understand? We decided, together, to let the entire Universe pass us by because we thought this was so important.

"We are barely a race anymore, but a collection of individuals who happen to share the same common heritage, the same unswerving purpose. We are hunters and searchers and nothing else. Do you know I have no ability to appreciate art? It is noise and colors and sensations that simply roll off me. But once we were among the finest artists. Is that difficult to believe? We created symphonies from the roaring engines of stars and framed dances that took flight and pierced all those who witnessed it. But we burned it out of ourselves, so that nothing might distract us. We have roamed and explored and _died_, for this . . . for what is out there. With it, we have a chance to rejoin ourselves, rediscovering what linked us as a race and plunging forward again. To take what we once knew and what we have learned since then and meld it together. That is the promise of it, Solo. That is the _necessity _of it."

Solo stared at him for a few seconds, the slow rumbling of the ship's engines the only true marker of passing time. Then he gave a long sigh, turning around so that he was facing the viewscreen again, the object outside regarding them without eyes, without blinking. "What do you want me to do?" he asked quietly, although it wasn't clear who he was directing the question to.

The Insepton edged closer. "You take this away, Solo, and you consign my race to further searching, to falling further behind. Nothing is finite, not you, not I, not our races and not the Universe itself. We are always running out of time, in every way. And I know that you have no affection for us, that the state of us means nothing to you. But I am asking you, give us this chance. Don't deny it to us. It is time we came back together and knew each other again. The decision is yours."

The Insepton retreated then, either to give Solo space or to get a better view of the object. Solo stood there for what felt to be a long time, or maybe it wasn't. He bowed his head, leaning heavily on the console, like he was trying to lift his body and shove it downward at the same time. Perhaps he whispered a few words to himself, but maybe it was just other voices, dust scraping against itself.

When he did speak again, too quickly, in infinite time, it was with the groan of a large object being dislodged from the bottom of the ocean and finally rising to the surface.

"Okay," and his voice was hoarse and lost and gone, "where would you like me to take it?"

* * * * *

_And they think I'm covered in fur_, Logan thought but it only an attempt at dark levity to keep himself sane, to avoid fully confronting what he saw in front of him. The man inside the crystal didn't move, he seemed both encased and displayed.

". . . _just have to figure out how to get it back to a port. We've still got that tether, right, we can probably rig it so that it will stay attached during a jump. I really wonder what that is, though._"

Black eyes stared back without seeing. But the man wasn't dead, Logan could tell that much, even if he was unable to explain how he knew. His hands were pressed up against the crystal, palms flattened as if he was still pushing on the unyielding surface, as if his last thought before entrapment arrived was _escape_.

"_It's not junk. But who would lose something all the way out in the middle of nowhere."_

_ Could I?_ Logan let a single claw slide out, scraped it gently across the crystal's surface. It created a shallow gouge but caused a sharp, arcing pain to leap from his arm and travel all the way up to the base of his brain. With a gasp he broke the connection, massaging his tingling wrist. The man inside the block had no reaction at all.

"_Well, isn't that the best place to lose something when you don't want it found?"_

The advent of the new voice, clipped and sighing and accented, forced Logan to spin around. On the floor the view of the image was still the same, the cutoff section of the bridge, Solo and the hairy man still standing on the edge. But there was someone. There was someone else.

"_Plain sight really only gets you so far, especially when it's gigantic and oddly shaped. You can't exactly disguise it as a meadow full of flowers, you know."_

At the other edge of the view was a chair. Or the edge of a chair, with someone sitting on it. All Logan could see were the person's crossed legs and their dark pants. A set of hands, perhaps, folded demurely in a lap. He tried to remember if the bridge had some kind of chair in that spot but all of a sudden he couldn't recall the layout.

_"Who the hell are you?_" That was Solo, crossing the space between but only halfway. Whatever he saw was making him wary. "_How did you get on here?_"

The hairy man called out, broken bells tumbling down a mountainside.

"_See, that's your problem_." A finger pointed, too solid for the flickering haze. "_You're always asking the wrong questions. The _better_ question is _what_ I'm doing here._" The voice had a smile in it that was completely out of place. "_And what that means for you_."

"_We're just passing through._" There was a cant in Solo's words that was both defiant and nervous. "_And it's no damn business of yours_."

"_Oh?_" The legs shifted, uncrossed. The voice remained light but Logan could hear the molten undercurrent. "_I think you'll find that it's very much my business._" The hands parted, fingertips pressed together. "_But I sense that you are a simple man so I am going to keep this very simple._" The voice became a sliver, a rapier resting right above the heart. "_Leave this zone and forget you were ever here. And we'll all go on with our lives the better for having pretended that we had never met._" He smiled off-screen and Logan didn't know how that was clear to him. "_How's that sound? I think that's fair."_

Solo stood there for a long time, or maybe it just seemed that way because the image froze and wavered, pausing to warn. The hairy man fretted in the background, his mouth open but no sound coming out. Meanwhile, Solo looked down, scratched the back of his neck.

"_Well, since you put it that way, what else can I say but . . ._" he looked up suddenly with a wicked, doomed grin, ". . . _no._"

* * * * *

The Insepton was speechless briefly, a pause that neither he nor Solo seemed accustomed to. When it found its voice again, there was a tentative push to it, the act of sticking your head around a corner in the hopes of not getting shot in the face. "Truly? You'll go and do this?"

"Yeah," Solo replied, still not turning around. "You've convinced me." He shifted from one leg to the other. "You want the truth? I was going to sell the damn thing, I've got some debts that needed paying off and it would have helped." His hands were dancing over the console and the view from the window was tilting, the object sliding off to the right. "But we can do this, I can do this for you." There wasn't any triumph in his voice, there wasn't any vindication. There was nothing but words.

The Insepton crawled forward tentatively, studying Solo's back. "We would be in your debt, Solo. Once the Regathering has commenced and been completed, anything that is within our power is yours. You will have no debts, anything that is within our grasp will be within yours as well. And having convened, the Universe will be ours." It snaked around, trying to get a view around his body. "What are you doing?"

"Setting up a tow." The object was just out of view now, a small piece of it visible in the corner. "It's going to be tricky to move because of its size but I think I can figure . . ." his forehead wrinkled as he worked out the calculations. "Ah, I was never good at any of this crap, you were always . . ." he stabbed at the console and the ship jerked slightly, the view jumping. "There," he said, rubbing his hands together as if cold. "I nailed it with some thrust to get it moving . . ." Indeed the object was starting to recede, although it wasn't clear if the ship was sliding away from it as well.

"So now what we're going to do . . ." he leaned over the console, guiding the controls with an artist's touch. It wasn't clear if he was even explaining matters to the Insepton as much as simply talking to himself. There was a slight echo to his tone, threatening to blend in with the ship's ambient harmonics. The object suddenly soared closer, the surface rushing to them, revealing no seams or breaks anywhere in it. The Insepton said nothing, transfixed by the sight. Then, just when it was about to touch them, the view shifted and they sailed over it. "Now that it's moving, we'll get in front of it and match the velocity." More switches, a thudding sensation in the stomach as the ship achieved the new speed.

The object was completely out of sight now, although its presence seemed to linger in a ghost image burned into the window, in the shape left by negative space. His hand hovered over a switch, moving in a vaguely clockwise fashion while he waited. "Right, right . . . we just have to . . . _now_." He hit it and the ship seemed to move in two directions at once, shuddering right under their feet. A second later it stabilized, the engines churning just a little louder than before.

"What did you do?" the Insepton asked. It was standing almost directly behind him, its voice very quiet. Its hands stretched, grasped but held nothing.

"Gravitational tether," he said, almost as an afterthought. "It'll attach the . . . your artifact to us, let us drag it until we get to where we need to go." His hands were wrapped around the console edge, the knuckles slowly whitening. "We won't be able to do as far a jump as I'd like but a series of short ones will work."

"Where were you looking to go first?" The Insepton undulated, its eyes bending around Solo's body and staring at the readouts.

"Galix." Solo was already tapping at the navigation systems, numbers and letters flashing up quickly on the screen, elegant mathematics arranging themselves out of the abstract. Outside it was still space but it could be broken down and some direction found. Not a void but a grid, stacked in theoretical squares where nothing was too distant. There was the edge always receding in seconds. Until it came back. "A neutral port, it's run by some old family. The place is mostly used for refueling, but it's out of the way enough that we can wait until your people can come to collect this thing."

"You've thought this through."

Solo frowned. "It just seems that way. Maybe the problem has been all along that I haven't thought _enough_ about this." Another few buttons pressed and the view tilted as the ship coasted into a gentle glide. The artifact was an invisible weight, sighted without being present. "How long will this . . . gathering of yours take?"

"_Re_gathering." The correction appeared to be important to the alien. "Once on the port I can access their communication systems and send out the call. It's self-perpetuating, a vibrational signal that lurks virally inside other wavelengths. A few hours, perhaps, until a sufficient number is alerted and they can converge on the port. From there, we will handle matters in our own fashion. There are procedures already in place for this. We've had many years to prepare for the eventuality." It scooted forward a few inches, then danced back again. "And we are heading to this port now?"

"Yeah." He took a step backwards, wiped his hands on his shirt. "I haven't been to Galix in a while, but the old portmaster's wife loves me . . . I saved one of their kids years ago when a Gorax escaped from someone's cargo hold, started trampling around the port. In the confusion the kid got in the way. I was still at the bar, finishing my drink, everyone else had already scattered. At their prices, you don't waste a single drop. But it was just the kid, and the Gorax and it was heading right for him." He leaned back so that his legs were touching the chair, but he didn't relax or sit down. It was hard to tell if his eyes were watching space or his own reflection. "I ran out, don't ask me why. Probably because I had a couple in me, I'm not normally that brave. Or foolish." The flippant tone was at odds with his expression. "I grabbed the kid, I don't know what the hell I was even going to do . . . shield him? The damn beast was _huge_. I remember it leaning down toward us, it had breath like ash and it kept _wheezing_, like it was deflating. The kid never made a sound. Damn funny thing. I wanted to scream but from the kid . . . nothing."

"Perhaps the child was merely frightened? Though it is said, often humans are more frightened in the seconds when they do not know the end is coming, as opposed to being faced with its undoubtable finale."

"Maybe," Solo murmured. He held out a hand in front of himself, palm up, fingers rubbing vigorously at the skin, trying to work feeling back into it. "Is that it?" So softly, it wasn't said or asked.

"And what did you do?" There was no immediate answer. The Insepton had set the rear portion of its body down, folding its back legs under itself. One arm was reaching for a small pouch. "Solo, did you-"

"It was coming right for us." Was he answering or continuing? "There was no getting out of the way. So, I did the only thing I could think of." A slit of a smile crossed his face. "I threw the rest of my drink at it." He made a motion that could have been laughter, when sound existed. "Hey, I was probably drunk." He laughed silently again, his shoulders quivering. "What's funny is that it turns out that alcohol acts like a sedative on Goraxes. Strong one, too, the big lug was out like a light in seconds. I got the kid out of the way but unfortunately it fell on me, broke my shoulder. I was stuck there for a month, the old lady made sure I ate every day. Now, every time I go, she insists that I'm losing weight and cooks a big meal for me. It's nice. I should go more often, I don't know why I don't. Never any time, I guess."

"How long until we are there?"

"She makes a great casserole, I tell you." He blinked, the question finally striking him. "Ah, how long? A few hours, probably, once I start the jump sequences. Then it'll be over." He looked down at the coordinates again. "You're not going to need me anymore after that, I imagine."

"No, I can't imagine we will." It was holding a small device, pointed directly at Solo's back. The end of it was glowing. "But, why wait until then?"

A high pitched wail split the quiet air.

* * * * *

"_No?_" The hairy man echoed the word out of sequence, stretching it into a mournful noise. Even Logan found himself holding his breath, although he couldn't say why. He needed to leave here, every instinct told him to. The crystal was taking up more and more room, squeezing him away. That wasn't true. But this had to play out, there was no other way.

"_Care to explain?_" There was a light and friendly edge to the voice now, casting shadows all over the razors hidden within. The man's image had frozen, he had gone so still. "_I'd be truly interested in hearing your reasoning._"

Solo was pacing, crafting semi-circles around the man whose figure remained elusive. The scene was going abstract, reduced to lines, reduced to curves, reduced to implied presences in empty spaces. Voices as voids, stolen words occupying crowded harbors. Everyone was talking and Logan could only hear his own rapid breathing. _It's already happened. _It was important to keep remembering that. This could not hurt him. Nothing could hurt him.

And yet. His fingers traced the indented hole in his chest without comment. Meanwhile, Solo wove, wobbling. "_Because that thing out there, whatever it is, it's worth something._" His footsteps were making electronic ghost-images in the scene, fading too fast to truly remain. "_Everyone else who ever sees it, they probably think it's just a hunk of debris. It's not, though, is it?_"

Flickers, ripples. The image wavered as if drawn too tightly. "_Solo. I'm warning you, don't force my hand here._"

And he went, he went on, turning away. The evasive ascending spiral of your day, the way that the Universe had no direction but what we imposed on it. "_You went to the trouble of hiding it out here. And I don't know who the hell you are but I don't like you already._" Said with a snap, a flourish. He was riding the wave of his own bluster, forging trails in his own territory. "_But I can tell you that whatever reason you have for sticking this thing out here, it doesn't mean anything to me._"

"_I see_." The man had laced his hands together, slender and unreal. The scene curved, compressed a little more, tiny men in their sinking play.

Solo grinned, an electronic slash. All your warnings were nothing but static. "_I'm taking it. Because I found it, because someone will pay for it and because . . ._" a shrug, a set. "_Why not?_"

"_This is not a good idea_." The slow pulse of a patient quasar, or the gradual leaking of radiation into your body. "_Stop this, Solo. Last chance_." A knuckle crack, or an errant strain?

"_No_." One more time, as the nail. Turning away, already done but was there time for one last comment? Oh, there was. There was. "_I've told you how it's going to go. And you want to know why? You want to know the main reason why?_" Accusing, with all your force. Logan had crouched down without realizing it, as if being closer meant something. "_Because you don't come onto _my_ ship and start giving me orders. Nobody tells me what to do, you got it?_"

"_Indeed_," and it was different now, so different. Cold beyond cold. The glacier breaking free, crumbling downward and you were just in the path. Every moment leading you. "_Then you don't leave me with any choice, I suppose_."

Castigation. Dribbling array. What was there to view anymore? He had to look away, he'd seen too much. Solo snorted, out of time, an expulsion of all reason. "_I wasn't planning on. The only choice you get is whether you leave my ship voluntarily or I kick your ass off it. I'll give you a second to decide_." Pointing away, he added, "_Chewie, get the tether ready, I don't want to spend any more time out here than I have to_."

The hairy man gurgled, began to shuffle away.

Even as the man's voice stopped him. Or maybe that wasn't it. "_That's not going to happen_." The hairy man threw his arms up suddenly, his growl elongating, stretching out beyond all hope of tatters. The man kept talking, so calmly. He never moved, never shifted from his seat. That might have been the worst part. "_You see, y__ou don't know what you've started by finding this. You have no conception._" The hairy man twisted, writhing, but it was all theatre by this point, the swirling colors captured in monochrome, in the dispassionate film. He was being devoured, right before their eyes. Eaten by a prism. "_You can't take it and it can't stay here. Not anymore, it's not safe. So what are we going to do?_"

"_What are you doing?"_ Too late, too late, too late. He was so small, diminishing by the second even as his friend tried to turn toward him, to take another step. His scream was caught in the air, fossilizing. Logan had reached out for the image before he could stop himself but it was intangible, one of them was the ghost and he couldn't tell who. His fingers found hard memory and it was just as elusive as the real thing. "_Leave him alone! Stop that, what are you doing to him?_"

"_Making a point_." The same way you'd make slim lines in chalk on the ground, just to see if it's possible to arrange the world on your terms. The colors were constructing themselves, hardening into rigid angles and solid borders, all gradients erased. The crystal behind Logan, already bearing down. "_To show you what it takes to divert you from your own course._"

He ran toward his friend but stopped just short, even as the monolith rose and took its final form. Solo spoke a word that wasn't a word, stepped back in a shaken stance. A stillness threatened, reigned.

"_Don't do this._" Insisting, insistent. Logan stood up, letting the image recede. "_None of this was his idea, it was me. He's just my friend, don't take it out on-_"

The eyes inside the crystal stared at him without seeing. Logan regarded the statue, trying to find the spark inside, some measure of help. All around, sentences waged.

"_Exactly. This was begun by you, it has to be finished by you. It's really that simple._"

"Damn," Logan murmured, running his hand lightly along the cool block.

"_You son of a-" _But when you have no weapon, how do you shoot?

"Solo, what did you start?"

"_What is it, though? What do you want me to do?_"

A light, gentle laugh. "_Easy. You weren't able to find it before, I need you to not be able to find it again. How you go about that is entirely up to you._"

He was diving for the widening chasm. "_But wait, how do I-_"

"_Please. How will you feel a sense of accomplishment if I tell you everything?_" A thoughtful pause. "_But it's really more complicated than it needed to be_."

"And now what?" Logan wondered, gritting his teeth. All the events clutched at him, more than he wanted to shoulder. The remains of his life, drifting apart slowly like spreading debris. "What a _mess_, Solo." He pounded one hand against the crystal, feeling the reverberations settle out of his fist, rumbling into the emptiness.

"_Certainly not the way I would have gone about it_."

"What a goddamn mess."

"_Would you be terribly surprised if I said I didn't disagree?_"

Wait. _Wait_. All of a sudden the voice didn't sound right, the film progressing long past the time when the bulb had gone out in the projector. Letting the crystal rest against his back, Logan turned around to face the image again, his heart threatening to burst from his chest.

The man had gotten out of his chair.

"_But it's like humans have this need to turn everything into some hideously epic affair. They're just not happy unless the simplest tasks involve all of creation._"

Walking toward the center of the image, but the image had stopped. Solo frozen, the scene hovering in stasis. And the man, moving casually, hands in his pockets. His face was a static blur, the edges of his form flirting with breaking apart.

"_So what happens is that they wind up standing amidst all the wreckage, shocked at how it's turned out, and the best they can do is look around and ask me, 'Now what'?"_ Said in a childishly high voice, the man looked down and chuckled quietly afterwards. Logan found he couldn't budge, all his muscles were locked. That was all in his head. Certainly, definitely. Tiny, the man filled up the world.

"Who are you?" Logan asked, telling himself that he was only talking to a recording. It had to be true, in this world.

"_I like to think we can do better than that_." The man looked to both sides and up as well, at a ceiling that only existed in theory. Then, finally he stared out, and even without eyes, it was clear exactly what the fuzzed out deconstruction of his face was seeing. "_At least I thought we could. Turns out that might not be the case. Which is very humbling, honestly._"

He shrugged outward, his stance open. "_So . . . now what?_"

"I don't know." This was crazy. He broke away but the dimensions of the room were all wrong, constantly taking him back. "Why are you asking me?"

"_Who else is there?_" Gone missing, his expression was somber. "_It's all up to you now, I'm afraid._"

_No. No_. Did he say it outloud? He felt the bruised impressions the thoughts made on the air. _No no no_. The crystal, near, beckoned without pleading. All futures stalled.

The man inclined his head toward Logan. "_I think you'll know what to do._"

_But I don't-_

Just as the image blinked out, all the lights on the droid going dark, the scene going away. Leaving just him and the crystal and the man inside and nothing else. He staggered away, closer to the door, trying to find distance where no distance lurked.

_Dammit, now what?_ Logan thought, in the echo of blended voices.

While above and around him, the ship rumbled painfully.

* * * * *

The bridge had fallen into a hush, punctuated by the snap of a frail voice.

"It makes no sense, but I keep wishing to turn the ship around and face what's behind us. Not being able to see it, I start to wonder if it's truly there or simply another dream." The Insepton stepped around a pair of legs, stumbling a bit as it crawled over them. The body didn't react. "I have to tell myself to keep moving forward, that the only path is the one that lies ahead."

It reared up, running its small hands delicately over the controls. Its weapon lay off to the side and discarded, the end of it still pulsing faintly. The aborted texture of its final scream still hung in the air. A hand was draped on the floor near it but the fingers made no move toward the opportunity.

"But that is easier ascertained than provided for, hm?" It slid to the left, eyes tilting from one display to another. "Even when the action is necessary and longed for, there still exists a certain . . . trepidation?" It shivered, its body curving into shaded colors, although it could have been a trick of the near-light. "Have you ever felt that way?" Silence answered him and said everything. "No, you always swaggered through life with the quicksilver abandon of your kind. There was nothing before you but the next day and the careening promise behind it. No direction beyond what you needed, or what need you thought you possessed."

It bobbed its head, resting it briefly against the console. Somehow the motion made it look very tired. "I've wondered what kind of life that might be. I suppose I'll find out soon." Without the body moving, the eyes travelled as far as the stalks allowed, examining every facet of the controls. A jawbite of darkness began to gnaw away at the edges of the view, a seeping stain. "I'll have no choice. I've spent my life searching for this, and now it's finally found. My primary and only goal, realized. Where does one go from there? I will wake up into a Universe where I have nothing to search for anymore. What do I do, then? Will I find another purpose?" It lifted its head off the console, peering blithely into space. "I don't know," in a voice it didn't want to let go of.

"After you've participated in a quest so grand," it wondered outloud, "do you even want to? Where do you go when you've reached the destination?"

_Shhuff_. The gentle scuff behind the Insepton was a noise allowed to happen.

"Seems to me," Logan said, his words pressing against the air without bending it, "that we ain't reached the end yet."

"Indeed." The alien never turned around. Somehow Logan's reflection avoided the curvature of the outer glass. "I've been trying to isolate the coordinates that Solo set for the sequential jumps. I noticed as he was inputting them that they were set for a degrading spiral, each jump leaping to a further center. I imagine he thought I wasn't paying attention."

As the Insepton spoke, Logan walked up to the main chair. Looking over the top of it, he stared at the man sprawled on it, arms dangling limply over the sides, his head lolling back and mouth slightly agape. His eyes were closed.

"Yeah, that's probably what he thought." Carefully, Logan rested a finger on the man's neck.

"But if I can trace the final source of them, I can see exactly what he has . . ." The console beeped, almost eagerly. "Ah. There we are."

Logan closed his eyes briefly and exhaled, lips pressed tightly together. Just as slowly, he pulled his hand away. "What?"

"He lied." There was a certain tinge of sadness in the Insepton's voice. "The courses were merely a disguise. We don't go anywhere, truly, it ultimately keeps us in the same sector. Its final waypoint is set for . . . " The wrinkles in space, gone smooth and dark, merely gaped from this distance. ". . . for a black hole."

"Right." Logan kept his tone flat. "Why would he do that?"

"Who knows? Your species rarely does anything that makes sense. Perhaps he sensed that whatever plan he originally possessed would never come to fruition and this was his way of ensuring a sort of victory. Fortunately I didn't trust him. I've never trusted him." It tipped its body, arcing toward another set of controls. "But these coordinates aren't locked, with your help we can certainly reroute the ship elsewhere. I know of several planets nearby that-"

"No." All of a sudden Logan was looming over the alien, his face set, a knot working feverishly in his jaw. His shadow lay heavy, threatened to split at the edges. "I don't think that's going to happen."

The Insepton stiffened, stopped. "Ah." A snowfall on a star, rare and brief, right in that moment when you blinked. So much magic and you never see it when you're not looking. "You sound very certain of this."

"I am." He gave no orders. No ultimatums were necessary. His hands were at his sides, light and loose.

"May I ask why?"

The scene had shifted into greytones, somehow. Dappled light, and then, barely breaking. "I said to him, not that long ago . . . I said that I couldn't think of a reason so important that he wouldn't give this back to you."

"And now?"

"I've figured out the reason." He twisted without moving, words dropping as ballast, because to be fast he needed them gone. Nothing extraneous, for this to go.

"Well." It let go of the console, thumped down with a tiny thud. It didn't pivot, although one of its eyes were staring at Logan's knees. The back of its body brushed against an unresponsive boot. "Well," it said again, one hand caressing the other, so sure. "When were you going to do it?"

Logan's eyes widened just a fraction in surprise. "It? Do what?"

It stared back at him with a head slightly tilted, as if disappointed. "Please. I am not foolish, Logan. I have navigated the Concursive Spirals, seen the dead husks of a long extinct Karameikos swarm, debated the Yuling monoliths while surrounded by the corpses of those who couldn't decipher their archaic babble." It pawed at the floor, almost running in place. "I have fought on both sides of a war that used colors as weapons and seen symphonies crystallized, held its tender vibrations in my hand. Witnessed the ghost ships of the Hurcanoids phase through a world silently, leaving nothing but fragile flowers in the soil they passed through." It looked up at Logan, perhaps trying to memorize him. "You do not survive as long as I have without knowing when someone is prepared to kill you."

Logan didn't say anything at first. Then, very deliberately, he sat down cross-legged, at a level that was nearly eye to eye with the Insepton.

"It doesn't have to that end that way," he said quite clearly.

The Insepton made a ground-up mewling that might have been a laugh. "Then what other way do you see it ending, Logan? Drop me from the ship at the next port to continue on our separate paths, like this was some adventure we all shared? _No_." Said so forcefully that Logan's hand twitched. "No and no again. What is attached to the ship is my life, and nothing less. The search for it has consumed me from the moment I was capable of conscious thought. I can no more walk away from it than you might willingly part with your limbs. Have you any conception of that need, so that every action you take is bent toward it? Do you?"

"I thought I did." Admitted slowly and after a long pause. "But I guess I don't."

The alien tucked its legs under itself, so that it was resting neatly on the floor, becoming that much smaller. "And yet you would still side with him, and keep it away from us." Its head dipped, a slight shake. "Humans."

Logan intertwined his fingers, pressing on his knuckles. "If it goes down how you want, he loses a friend." A spark ignited and died, right in the center of his eyes. "And I've lost enough to know how that feels. And I can't let it happen again." The words were coughed out of him, even as his gaze sought the floor. "He got into this because he was an arrogant idiot but he's been trying damn hard to get out of it. Because a man like him doesn't have many friends, not that many he can trust. I won't let him lose this one. It ain't right."

"So it's right we have to keep searching?" The Insepton's tone was gentle, as if it had already accepted the outcome.

Logan sighed. "It was missing before and you found it. Someone else will find it again. It's not a perfect solution but it's the best I got. Otherwise someone gets hurt who wasn't any part of this, and I can't stand that." His nails dragged across the metal, making soft squeaks. "I said, it ain't right. But it's as right as it can be."

"I see." It had gone dimmer inside the cabin, somehow, the two of them only defined by the impressions they made on the fading brightness. "Then I suppose we're locked into our courses. How would you like it done? If it helps I can look away, so that the moment isn't branded upon you."

"No." Logan unfolded from his stance and got to one knee. "It doesn't have to be like this. You can't have it, but that doesn't mean you have to die."

"Oh, but doesn't it?" The Insepton paced along the console, its small feet counting out rapid heartbeats. "I've told you, you cannot simply just let me go. The quest does not end, just this part of it. And now, I know. I know of Han Solo and what he's done. And I will try to find him again. I will get word to every one of my race and they will seek him as well. Every bounty hunter, every mercenary, they will all know his name. As someone who found it once, we will make him find it again. And we won't rest, nor stop. I will ensure all of creation drowns in our search, in order to find him." It came back over to Logan, its head inches from him. "So, you see, you don't have any choice. Perhaps none of us ever did."

"I'm telling you-"

"What is stopping you?" the Insepton demanded, a flash of anger finally entering its voice. "What, exactly? Must I retrieve my weapon and force a pretense? Is that all you have the stomach for? Do not prolong this, Logan, or perhaps I will escape."

Logan only grunted in response, let his body lean forward. "There's always a choice. It could have been different."

"Not in any world that we know," came the reply.

The two of them stared at each other for close to a minute. Then Logan seemed to come to a decision. Without words or expression, he braced himself into a crouch so that he was poised over the alien. Hand clenched into a fist, he let it rest against the back of the Insepton's head. It shuddered a bit at his touch but made no motion to pull away.

"If it were possible, I'd like to look upon it again." The Insepton began speaking quickly, the words coming out almost as chatter. "Just once more, to remind myself."

"Sh," Logan said quietly, his eyes stripped bare.

"But that's not going to happen, is it?" The Insepton wasn't facing him, its head pointed toward the console, the eyes straining to stare out into darkening space. "No matter, it's best this way. I've had the dream and I've had this, and how many get to speak of the reality of both?" It raised itself as high as it could go on its legs, as if excited for the view. There was nothing but brilliant stars. "Did I ever tell you about my dreams, Logan? Sometimes there would be singing, and it would linger long after I awoke. Always leading me. Always so vivid. And yet, having found it, what I cannot understand is why it looks nothing like-"

A shush slit the air again, soft and metallic. The Insepton jerked once, and that was all. "Sssh," Logan whispered, sliding his other hand under the alien and easing it to the floor.

His claws withdrew into his skin, blooming flowers gone into reverse. He rocked back onto his heels, both hands folded together and resting under his chin. One knuckle still had a splash of dulled blood, a stain he didn't wipe away. He stared out at nothing for what seemed like a long time, compressed and silent.

Finally, he stood, in smooth stages as a box being unpacked. His boots made no sound as he walked around the main chair, one hand tracing the outlines of it. His face was set, barely noticing the ship anymore. Coming clockwise, he finally came back to the console, his fingers just barely brushing over the buttons. He had to decide, had to make a move.

His hand wavered and swept, eventually settling on a small red one.

"Okay." Logan glanced around the ship, perhaps hoping for some kind of hint. If it possessed any, it wasn't about to give them up. Space was just as recalcitrant, the lights seeking to recede. "Here goes-"

". . . that's just going to . . . open the . . . waste tanks . . . pal . . ."

Logan spun at the sound of the voice, creaking and rough, his breathing speeding up for just a second. In the chair the man was stirring slightly, his head rolling from side to side, as if encased in loose rock.

". . . the _hell_?" Logan marveled, staring at the man with something akin to wonder. "You're supposed to be in a coma."

"Feels like I . . . still am . . ." Solo arched his back, trying to lift himself off the chair and failing. His eyelids were fluttering rapidly, seeking a kind of clarity. "I'm still impressed the . . . little bastard didn't . . . _kill_ me."

"He didn't need to. He just wanted you out of the way, so he could get what he wanted. That was all."

Solo's arm twitched with the intensity of nerves catching fire, but he was unable to pull it out of its limp dangling. "_Won_derful . . ." he was a man speaking through grating sandpaper. "Did you shoot him . . . out the . . . airlock?"

Logan glanced down and away just as quickly. "He's . . . not a problem anymore."

"_Good_." The word came out as a scale sliding along fractured bone. "Maybe we can . . . get this over . . . with finally." His fingers kept plucking at the air with no apparent results. His chest expanded with some effort only to end with him relaxing against the chair again, biting off a curse under his breath. "_Ah_. Looks like . . . you're going to . . . have to do some . . . piloting."

Logan kept silent, his eyes staring at the coordinates set into the console.

"Listen . . . it's not that . . . hard-"

"He told me what the coordinates were set for." Logan tapped at the metal, hearing it ring hollowly. He glanced at Solo with one eye, his expression chiseled. "He said we're heading for a black hole."

"That's . . . right."

"And I'm supposed to go along with this?"

"Why not . . . it'll make a . . . hell of a . . . story, someday." Solo opened his eyes wide but the pupils were dilated, constantly shifting.

Logan laughed, surprisingly himself. Shaking his head, he murmured, "You're crazy."

"No," Solo shot back. "_You're_ crazy . . . I'm a pilot. That's . . . the difference."

"Maybe," Logan allowed. He was quiet for another few seconds, perhaps considering a facet. "All right, what do I do?"

Solo grunted, shifting in the seat again, one hand flopping into his lap uselessly. "We can go the . . . direct route . . . now so . . ." he rattled off a set of coordinates to Logan, who quickly figured out how to plot them into the navigation system. After a minute the numbers were staring back at him, the course set. "And that's . . . it . . ."

Logan stared at the button that would trigger the jump, absently chewing at the inside of his cheek. "You never struck me as the suicidal type."

"Probably because . . . I'm not . . ." his voice seemed to be getting stronger although he was still unable to move properly. "Having . . . second thoughts?"

"A black hole," Logan mused, glancing out into space as if he might spot that infinite maw among all the other patches of darkness. "Back at the port, Solo, when we were arguing over whether to wait out the riot or act, you wanted to hide out. At least you did until I mentioned the Dark Riders might get the ship. Only then did you want to move."

"What can I say . . . I'm attached to . . . it . . ."

"I thought you were a coward, only caring about your precious ship." His lip curled into a sneer as he said it. "But that wasn't the case, was it?" He glanced back at Solo, only to find the man's eyes nearly closed again, his body sagging against the chair. He looked tired, for maybe the first time during this entire affair, like his frame had finally worn out.

"Just . . . _do_ it . . . already . . ." the man wheezed.

Logan let his hand rest on the button. "I just wanted you to know, you did the right thing." Why he waited for a response, he couldn't say. If he heard, Solo didn't react.

Without looking, he let the button depress.

Outside the stars stretched again but instead of leaping back into their original shapes they kept stretching, growing longer and longer until they were just strings bound across all the sky, holding the various pieces together, the edges fraying, the seams of it all coming apart. He could see it now, how tightly the skein was bound and yet how easily it could be torn. A single rip, an errant claw, and it could all be cut. But it always came back together, that was the trick, the reason it kept proceeding. The knots binding it all together, they were slicing through and falling in between, lacerations as strobes. Was that his vision? No, his vision was fine, it had to be, with these eyes.

They were racing ahead, falling in line with the stars, outrunning every luminous drop, forcing themselves into a blackness that lay in the center of their velocity, that pushed every other light away. Racing right toward it, unless it was devouring all they saw, every other smear of brightness fleeing. There and there and _there_, inexorable and outside and was that the ship lengthening? People were talking but it wasn't words, it was the hammerblow of forward speech, careening past all the possibilities of what he might say, crashing into him and dropping and falling. How did it get so heavy? He wasn't moving but he was sinking, matter finding its own patterns of dissolution. Starlines shoved off to the side and it was just dark ahead. Dark and dark and oh, could he see through the walls now? Transparent or simply the way the Universe always was, touching the rigid gossamer and finding the spaces in between. Scraping up against screaming velocity. Going so fast and yet they hadn't left, all their motion was reaching into the dark, what everyone did the first time that a notion of the difference occurred to them. The ship was groaning into elongated cries, the metal threatening to buckle, rattling in its own dissonant harmonies, seeking the final frequency. And what then? What? The stars were falling out one by one, giving up the race with a fond wave, letting the opaque press against them and how had that happened? Take a breath, he had just taken one, the weight on his chest increasing per second per second per second. Move, a voice ordered. But it hurt to move. They had never told him how much it would hurt, this world. But he had to. How long had it been? He needed a hand to mark the time, if time was left to mark. A watch baked too long in the sun, finally starting to cool. Ticking clocks and evasive color and and and

.....................................................................................................................................................he turned, against all hope of friction

...........................................................................................................................................................to find the man gone monochrome

...........................................................................................................................................................his body flattened and pulled taut into forever

...........................................................................................................................................................and he was grinning, teeth as infinite jewels

...........................................................................................................................................................answering the question that hadn't been asked

...................................................................................................................................................................................and he looked

...................................................................................................................................................................................and he looked

...................................................................................................................................................................................and he _said_

..........................................................................................................................................................."Sure, I guess this counts for hazard pay . . ."

..........................................................................................................................just as they

.............................................................................................................................................tipped across the edge

...................................................................................................................................................................................went past

.....................................................................................................................................................................................................and

.............................................................................................................................................................................................................every

.............................................................................................................................................................................................................sense

..............................................................................................................................................................................................................went

..............................................................................................................................................................................................................._black-_

* * * * *

..............................................................................................................................................................................................................._and_-

...................................................................................................................................................................................................faded

..........................................................................................................................................................................................into

......................................................................................................................................................................................a

........................................................................................................................................................................pristine

..........................................................................................................................................................blanket

.....................................................................................................................................................of

..............................................................................................................................................all

................................................................................................................................colors

................................................................................................................bleeding

..............................................................................................together

......................................................................................and

..........................................................................gone

..............................................................pure

................................................. white

.......................................just

...............................like

....................that

_time_

"when a bunch of them, trying _really_ hard to look all tough in that black armor, like I'm supposed to be frightened of something I can invert . . . but anyway they've got me cornered and the tall one with the deep voice steps forward . . . he's a bit of a jackass honestly, I mean, you think the rest are pompous, they've got nothing on the king, trust me. But all right, yeah, he steps forward and announces that they're going to trap me in a two-dimensional pocket."

The hardness of the seat hits him first, a pressure pushing _up_. His senses scramble and reconnect and it's not right.

"So I go and act all scared because if you don't play along they get all mopey and there's just _no_ dealing with them when they get like that, trust me."

The edge of the table bites into his forearms. Footsteps clack by, the gentle brush of soft hair and the sharp scent of primrose sweetened with a decadent promise. But it still wasn't right.

"Um, excuse me?"

"Hold on a second, this is the good part. So the tall one gloats a little more and next thing I know it's all . . . _poof_ and I'm good and two-dimensional, as flat as theoretical physics will allow me to get. They're getting better, normally they can't help telegraphing their so-called masterstrokes. Generally as soon as the bwah-ha-has start you know it's time to duck and cover but here . . . no warning. Maybe they're finally starting to learn. About damn time, if you ask me. How often can you get your asses kicked before it occurs to you that you might be going about this the wrong way? But hey, why listen to a winner, hm?"

They're smoking exotic Nilbonian spices nearby, the rough scent rolling like fluid mercury across the air. A bartender is listening to some mook's sob story about the girl that got away. Except the girl was purely conceptual and disappeared when his theories were disproven, leaving nothing behind but unvalidated data and one tender night of passion, albeit properly footnoted. The facets of the place swirl against his senses.

Except.

"Listen, is there a reason I can't-"

"Now, keep in mind that I've spent time in a two-dimensional zone. _Plenty_ of time. You know what I go there for? The romances. Don't laugh, you won't find better proof that love still exists than among those couples. It's like they work extra-hard to make up for their lack of depth. Their poems will get right under your skin, I swear."

"No, but-"

"Right, I'm getting off-topic, good catch. So, me, another dimension, flattened. Following so far? Of course you are. And I bet you're probably thinking, oh gosh how is he going to get out of this one? _Easy_. What happens when you take a dimension away from something that's technically infinite? Exactly, it becomes infinitely _flat_. So yeah, in essence you become a very large doormat . . . _except_. You've got . . . come on, what now?"

Overhead is the swoop of a bat's wings and the clinking of glasses following suit. A cup slides down the bar past him, just brushing against his knuckles and sighing as it does so. A sneeze sends droplets of liquid to lightly tickle his neck, but he refuses to give into the urge to wipe it away.

The counter rattles in the wake of a hand slamming against it. "I'll tell you, something that's also infinitely sharp at the edges, that's what. So I did the only proper thing and turned myself sideways, cut my way right out of the dimension, sliced completely through. I know, I was impressed too. Not as much as_ they_ were, mind you, when I dropped right through them and chopped about half of them in two. Lengthwise. Very neatly, too, I might add. They've never said anything since but I think my point was made." There's a snorted sniffling, the soft rasp of a napkin being wiped against lips. "Oh, but here I am, monopolizing the conversation. You had a question?"

He's not ready for it, even though he's been bursting to ask. "I, uh, I . . . what the hell are we doing here? What is this place?"

The laugh splatters. "Come on now, where were we going to go? _Your _favorite bar? Like I'm going to get free drinks there. Besides, I think we've got a better class of clientele here." Breath bends down, whispers into his ear. What she says isn't his language but it sends a trickle down his spine anyway. "Present company excepted, of course."

"I don't understand a damn thing you're talking about. And why can't I see-"

"Just the kind of place you take a man who has done something utterly ridiculous." A elbow hits the table with a hollow clunk. "A black _hole_, Solo? Are you even pretending to think this stuff through, anymore?"

"Well, it-"

"_Don't_ go telling me that it sounded like a good idea at the time."

"Honest, it did." He hopes he doesn't sound too defensive.

A hand slaps him on the shoulder, feeling like a meteor shower of hot needles. "That's why I like you, Solo. You don't let the infeasibility of an action stop you. It just seems to make you try harder." A creak as presumably he leans back. "But now what are we going to do with you?"

"Give me a large reward for my efforts so I can retire young?"

The voice is a dry buzz. "So you can spend the rest of your days hugging babies and sewing clothes for the elderly, no doubt. How about this . . . you get one drink, so enjoy it."

"That's generous of you." Somehow he finds it, the glass soaked with condensation. It's slightly viscous and tastes like the first moment you slip free, the burst yell in the back of your head as all of gravity's hands slacken and let go. The notion that the forces that kept you bound were falling rapidly away behind and what lay ahead was only everything. He found he enjoyed it quite a bit, actually. Not as much as the real thing, though.

"You're lucky, you know." They've started a bawdy drinking song on the other side, about the prescience of glass and her magic number of legs. "I happened to poke my head in during your little stunt, against certain other's best wishes to leave you to your own devices. Good thing I did or right now you'd be somewhere you _really_ didn't want to be."

Perhaps it's the drink that's made him bold. "Nah, I knew you'd be along."

"Oh? Do tell."

Someone drops a utensil and the sound rings out like an aborted symphony. It has to be coincidence. "Because whatever the hell you are, you're not a cold blooded killer or you would have blown the ship up in the first place. You used me. I've used enough people to know when I'm someone else's pawn."

"Aren't you very clever?" But there was some amusement in the voice, tingling as static. A circular scraping across the bar suggested a glass was being spun. A bottle of Uldavian Prime was unsealed, flooding the place with the rigor of incense and the memory of when he'd first tasted his own blood. She'd had a hell of a left hook. But that had just made the aftermath that much sweeter. Turns out it wasn't all she had.

"You needed something done and you took the opportunity of me stumbling in to get it done. You were trying to keep it away from those guys in the armor, right? You didn't want them to know you were involved?" He should take the silence as a hint but he keeps interpreting it as encouragement. "I assume you used the cover of the black hole to move it to where you really wanted it."

The low rasping laughter again, like smoke developing a sense of humor. "Why would I go and do a thing like that?"

An array of cubes fall down in a cascading clatter. Or so it sounds. It could have easily been a Vilgid's love song, written sideways. "But didn't you want-"

"I've got no idea where it is, I let the event horizon take it to wherever. Can't touch it, that's the rules. Well, that's what I'm told at least. One of these days I'll finally get around to checking up on that because it really strikes me as kind of contrived . . ."

"Does that mean this is all over?" He's never been in a bar that he's wanted to get out of quickly, but this place is coming close to being that first time. If only he knew what was-

"Your part in it is, yes." A certain pause occurs. "Although you never really had to have a part, you know. Right from the start you could have walked away."

"No, I couldn't." Said so fast he could feel the burns inside his mouth. "You didn't give me any kind of choice." It forces a clenching inside his stomach as the notion hits him. "Where the hell is everyone else? Why am I the only one here? Are they-"

"They're fine. Honest."

"But it's just me here." That's never bothered him before. They're singing a lament outside about the loss of another star. The counter-harmonies are trying to shout them down, saying who will notice, it's just one. That's all it is. "Does that mean I . . . didn't make it?" But even one missing makes the sky that much darker.

There's a snuffling sound and the man doesn't answer right away. Beyond the door the chorus is winning, dragging the defectors with them into a sonnet about the new cycles. It sounds so beautiful, he wishes he knew what it looked like. But there's no way to tell.

"You, sir, can't ever _not_ make it." Spoken like a cloth wiped gently across the face. "That's another rule." Then, in a louder voice, "You finish with that drink yet, slowpoke, before they think we're taking up too much real estate? Besides, we've gone about ten minutes without a crisis and I doubt things will stay quiet for much longer. We're almost at a record as it is."

"I . . ." and it turns out he has, although he can't remember drinking the rest. But it's empty and so must be true. "All right. What happens now?" The rest of the bar must have shifted to the other end of the room, they sound so far away now. He needs that waitress to come back over again, just to feel the breeze of her passage and imagine the outline she leaves on the air. None of them are near and what does that mean?

"Now?" He sounds like he hadn't considered the question yet.

"Yeah. I did your dirty work, got this whole mess wrapped up neatly for you . . . so what happens to me now?" Cautiously defiant but it's shouting at a river in the hopes of getting it to flow in the opposite direction. If it still drowns you, it's nothing personal.

"Well, Han Solo," the man says, as the blindness inverts, "I imagine for starters that this is the point where you

_.................................................................................................................................................................................wake_

_...........................................................................................................................................................................__......up_

Solo opened his eyes with a gasp. His back arches spasmodically, shoulder blades slamming into the metal floor of the ship. He could see again but all that was visible was darkness. The ship had gone quiet, all the consoles and machines powered down, like it was keeping some kind of vigil over him.

"What the . . ." he muttered, blinking rapidly. Why the hell couldn't he-

Overhead the darkness rustled, resolved itself into a coat of fur. A low trilling sound came to him then, gradually growing louder as the realization set in. It was a roar that Solo wasn't quite sure he'd ever hear again.

_Thank you_, he thought, or maybe said outloud, even as the Wookie swooped down to scoop him into an embrace, nearly suffocating him in the process. Even so, he laughed, hardly hearing himself over his friend's whoops. After going through this whole mess, it was about time that something decided to go right. The two of them had been through too much to-

_Wait_.

"Hold on," he said, breaking free suddenly and sitting up straight, glancing almost frantically around the ship. "Where's Logan?"

* * * * *

_I don't know where I am. _It's the softness of the sheets that alerts him first, the sharp clean scent of them. Before coming to the school he'd never spent a day in his life on a normal mattress, had never been able to fall asleep properly without having to brace himself for a possible attack. Even now he'd find himself sleeping outside when the bed became too intoxicating. Sometimes he wouldn't even remember making the decision to go outside. It wasn't sleepwalking. He kept telling himself that.

This, though, this was different. He opens his eyes to blurred whiteness, a reflection of sunlight against a mirror and plastered to the walls. Blinking does no good, the view remains hazy, all contours indistinct.

Past the edge of the bed he hears the _clinkaclinkaclink _of a spoon inside a glass, casually stirring.

"Ah, you're finally awake," a cultured voice says. "Perhaps you'd like some tea?"

Logan flips over, the blankets reluctant to let go of him, the voice startling him more than he'd like to admit. The room reels, if he squints hard enough he might be able to make out a small round table at the other, two objects near it that could be chairs. Trying to see is staring through a warped lens coated with rainwater, the scene continually shifting and melting, sharp details falling away into broader shapes. It's a man there, definitely, pressed into the soft wax of the scene.

"I ain't much for tea," he says after a second when it's clear that if this is a dream he's not waking up right away.

"Oh thank goodness," the man says. It's hard to tell but he seems to press down on top of the cup, pushing it down into the table itself. "I never developed a taste for the stuff myself, but it seemed like the proper thing to offer given the circumstances." His contours wobbles, one leg maybe crossing over the other. Why the hell is everything so out of focus?

"I'm not really that thirsty." He manages to shove his legs off the bed and plant both feet on the floor. It's strangely warm, perhaps a type of marble. The room, as far as he can tell, is cut with perfectly straight lines, somehow both utilitarian and graceful, sweeping across in continuous motion even as it lay static.

"How are you, then?" There's a slow scrape as the chair goes back but it's not clear if the man has stood up. Logan isn't looking at him, he's staring at the floor with his hands pressed up against the side of his head, sweeping back his hair. But even the floor is wrapped in solid haze.

"Tired." The admission comes frighteningly easy. He continues to stare for a few moments without blinking, feeling the man's gaze on him. He's being studied, he's been prodded and examined enough in his life to know the sensation. "And confused. What am I doing here?"

"Resting, mostly. Beyond that, I imagine we'll get to it in a few minutes. I suspect you'll be gratified to know you aren't dead."

"I figured as much," comes the answer. "I can't be dead if I'm around to ponder it. Besides, I'm not exactly one to believe in an afterlife."

"Even if it was real?" There's a teasing, evasive quality to the question.

He raises one eyebrow. "Is it?"

The motion blur that is the man wavers slightly, like the fireflies holding him together are about to violently disperse. "Oh, I have no idea, I don't get involved in that sort of thing. I've got enough to worry about without having to keep track of souls and all that. Where you go is where you go and that's all." There's a dismissive note to his voice but with an underlying weariness, perhaps he's rehashing a debate he came to terms with a long time ago.

Logan glances around at the room, seeing it as solid shadows without a light source to cast them. "And here? What's here?"

The man's pacing around the room loosely, fingers tracing blocks that could be furniture. He's got eyes now, two dark and glittering holes. "A pause. An exhalation between frantic moments." It's watching him with all the intensity of a negative image of a steady flame.

Logan meets them without wincing, arms resting on his thighs and his hands just barely touching in between. "We went into the hole, didn't we?"

The man's mouth becomes a mirthful slit. "Against all better judgment and sanity, yes. It's not the most ill-advised action I've ever witnessed but it certainly ranks up there."

He ignores the jibe. "And we all made it out."

That's when the man turns serious. "Yes. Everyone did."

"And where are they?" He doesn't know why he needs to ask.

"Not here. Elsewhere." As if the two phrases described two utterly different concepts. "The ship broke apart during the journey, flung you all out. It got put back together but it struck me as a good time for everyone to go their separate ways. You caused enough damage for one day."

Something about his tone makes Logan bristle. "Us? You were the one who put him up to this, weren't you?"

He frowns as a sunset landing. "That's one theory, certainly. But he got himself into it and it was his job to get himself out. It's not our fault that he decided to take the roundabout route."

Now Logan is standing up, although he stays by the bed. The change in stance causes blood to rush down from his head, creating a shower of sparkles and forcing him to sway for a second. The man only maintains his stance, head tilted slightly to the side, perhaps waiting.

"So all those people died so you could teach him a lesson." He can feel the tips of the claws biting and scratching against the underside of his skin, gnawing to get out. Why he's so angry, he's not sure, perhaps it's the man's cavalier attitude or maybe even at Solo for doing just what the man said and making it take even longer than it should have.

"No," the man replies coolly, "all those deaths occurred because a lot of people can't mind their own business." Hands clasped behind his back, which makes his shimmering form seem even slimmer, he cranes his head to stare at the oblique ceiling. "Are you beginning to find the interior stifling? Perhaps a change of venue is in order."

Slid in slenderly, the notion catches him off-guard. "What?" There's nothing resembling a door in the place. "But I'm not even wearing any-"

The world folds and twists, tries to pull his stomach out through his pores. The sterile placidness of the room is immediately replaced with a wash of nature's odors, the crisp snap of leaves, the gentle rustling of a breeze over branches, a steady and looping warbling that could be a bird and just as likely not be one. The ground is packed dirt, uneven but firm.

"Any . . ." he tries to finish, then realizes that his clothes are back, repaired and perhaps cleaner than before. The man is already ahead, a sight his eyes can't focus on properly, his vision always threatening to slide away from his form.

"Now this is much more peaceful," the man is saying when Logan finally catches up to him. Without turning around, he adds, "I believe you were about to ask me about violence?" There's flowers on either side of them, lurching into prismatic shades depending on how the light falls. The path twists, doesn't appear to go where it leads.

"What did they all want with it?" It's not the question he meant to ask, but it'll do. "The stormtroopers, that I understood, because I know their kind. All they do is take what they don't have, until there's nothing left. But the other ones . . ." stems curve into cursive language all about his head, intertwining above their heads. He can't see the sky, even though it's right above.

"They had their own silly reasons." He was a drop of water flung at the sun. Animals scampered underfoot as vapor, too quickly for the eye to follow. "Perhaps it was as profound as reintroducing any dangerous knowledge contained within, or as petty as finding it to make us look foolish because we let it get misplaced." His hand brushes against a series of stacked bushes, creating a sound not unlike humming wind chimes. "It could have been a very small piece in a very large game, or they were just doing it simply because they could." He looks down at the ground, his voice dropping. "It's not always as straightforward as one would like, I'm afraid."

They've come to a high field, the ground swishing quietly over humps of hills. Down below Logan thinks he can see small houses in the distance, arching heaps of stone arranged in elegantly spiraling lines, always spreading outward. The wind smells of age. At the end of the formation there appears to be a small hole, freshly dug. Figures too tiny for the distance are each handling one end of a object whose size is impossible to judge. There's a sense of ritual at play as they maneuver it toward the hole.

"And time ensures that every loss is unavoidable," the man whispers, bending down to pluck a few grasses from the dirt. He lays the strands flat in his hand and begins caressing them with a thumb.

Logan watches him, as much as he can watch. Staring at him is trying to find someone through the veil of a waterfall, you know there's someone present but you can't say who. "Is this over, then?" Hearing his own voice is like punching out a window in a church, even when you're familiar with it, the contrast turns it into something new. "Can we go on with our lives?"

"You always could." Carefully, he's arranging the grass-strands against his palm, narrowing his static saturated eyes as he tries to put the same sense of space between them. Above, stars pinwheel in the light past the sky's smoothness. "Your lives never really stop." The silence counts out a few beats. "Have you decided where you're going?"

The question catches him by surprise, the man seems to have a knack for that, deliberate or not. "I'm not going back to Solo's ship?"

"I think the two of you have caused enough mischief together for one day." The man doesn't sound entirely sad at the prospect of it continuing though. He's tying each end of the grasses together with deft fingers. "If you truly insist, then I suppose arrangements can be made." He takes a second to glance back at Logan. "Although . . . you don't strike me as the type of man who says goodbye."

Looking away, Logan rubs the back of his neck with one hand. "Nah," he answers, when enough time has gone by to make him wonder how much he means it. "Best to leave it where it is. I'd hate to see the man get all sappy about it."

"Indeed." The man stands up, holding the grass up to his lips. He blows through it softly, creating an off-key humming sound. Frowning, he pulls it away and begins adjusting the spaces. "You could always stay here, you know."

"Here?" He's been expecting this, somehow. "I ain't much of a groundskeeper, or a gardener. You sure about that?" There's parts of exposed columns of stone snaking through the grass. For some reason he's reminded of veins, though he can't say why.

The man, preparing to whistle through the grass again, halts. "Oh, no, not _here_. I meant . . ." one arm arcs to indicate all the places that aren't touched by sight. ". . . here. Out here with us. You've gotten a taste of it already, the port was just the edge."

"And you're saying it's different?"

The man stares outward, rippling humor evident in his voice. "Oh, you have no idea. Anything can happen, more than anything. There'd be places for you and you would certainly never be bored. There's always work to be done, plans to ferment and stop, sights to witness. Events of a scope you can't even conceive. Infinitely malleable." He blows again, but the sound is flatter still. "You'd be more than welcome."

Logan says nothing, kicking idly at the dirt. There's scattered stones buried in the dirt, all different shapes, laying about as if cast. One in particular catches his eye, perhaps a glint of sparkle on its surface, or maybe its inherent roughness is evident. Bending down he scoops it up in one hand, holding it up and squinting with one eye to stare at it.

The man stands poised as a ramrod. "Well?"

"No." He tosses the stone up, catches it easily and stuffs it into his pocket. "You said what I saw today was just the edge and what I saw . . ." he swallows thickly, "I saw people dying for no good reason, because of some stupid artifact that nobody even knew what it had. And then I find that it's deliberately missing, that all this was caused because of some . . . game?" Logan tucks his chin into his chest, frowns. "You're the man I saw on the ship, aren't you? In the recording?"

"Sort of." Even vague, he senses it's still true.

"Then all of this, you forced him into it for a reason that don't make any sense at all to me." He cracks a knuckle, merely to hear the sound. In the valley they've placed the object into the hole, but one of the figures has gone down and appears to be taking something else out. "You caused all that, so you could get the outcome you wanted. And what I can't wrap my head around . . . how much else did you cause?" The man is only watching, a vibration trying to escape this too solid earth. "Did you . . . make his ship go off in the first place, to give yourselves a reason to get this going?" He fixes the nonstop man with his most rooted gaze, feels it slide right off. "Can you answer me that?"

Logan waits, but he already knows what to expect. With one eye he sees the figures take a smaller object away, carrying it far from these fields. It might be moving in their maybe-arms. It might be wailing. Excoriated motes wheel above in melodic instances.

Scratching roughly at his face, Logan looks away. Suddenly, he doesn't want to see any more. "You can't. And this place, your lives, it's nothing _but_ that. Where I come from, a man either makes his own way, or he deals with whatever chance hands him. But here . . . this is how it always is, isn't it? Never knowing what's random or what's just part of the plan. I can't live like that."

The man hums across the knotted grass and finally a sweet, mournful note emerges, as if coaxed. Long and sinuous, it curves across the end of a season, a cushion to support the onset of the grayness.

Without looking up, the man says, "Nobody killed your friends."

The bluntness of it causes him to wince, although he recovers quickly, a bit of hardness returning to his eyes. "Maybe not. But if I stay here, I'll always wonder. And I don't need questions like that. I've got enough as it is."

A shorter, shriller note is blown, escalating into a staccato run before dipping low and rising again, held long enough to just tremble.

Logan stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets. "I think it's time I got the hell out of here."

The man coughs, unleashes a curious lingering note. Above, clouds track upwards across the sky's edge, hastening toward an up that always exists somewhere else. It's summer here in its last throes, the light gone deep and long, the shadows nothing but drenched impressions. The circular buzzing of particular insects. All fading into the slow slide.

"You could have left any time you wanted to," the man says finally, perhaps sadly. "The door's always been there."

_What?_ Logan blinks and suddenly it's true. Set in the ground it's there, like the entrance to an old cellar, or a shelter from a tornado. _I don't get this place at all_. Made of simple wood, the paint dull and chipping, the doorknob tarnished. It shouldn't open at all. But then, it shouldn't have been in the ground either.

Crouching down, he yanks on it and finds it opens easily. He refuses to be surprised anymore. What lies down it he can't tell, the interior tapers into a complete darkness that stubbornly clings to any fine details.

"I'm just supposed to . . . go in there?" he asks, snorting.

The man chuckles softly and for a second he's almost clear. "What's any day but a leap into the dark?" He starts to play a full song finally, lilting and pulsing, tones impossible from strands of grass. And yet here, it's not. It's still a song, notes overlapping on each other, swooping in and careening off their own echoes, faster and faster until it's not just the rhythm of a day but every day, of every heart all at once, chaotic and lurching and perfect, a myriad of beats all out of time and forever pushing ahead, dropping and regaining and never stopping. He doesn't wait for the crescendo, it's just coincidence. And yet that's how it happens.

With one step, Logan goes in. He goes down.

And falls.

Even as he does, the music follows him, whirling down at his heels as the darkness rushes past him, notes breaking apart and fading away as he goes, not able to make the fall, stripping the song down further and further, a thousand notes, a hundred, a dozen, ten, five, three, two.

And then there's just one, simple and pure, ringing and sustained, following him stubbornly through every distance and what it reminds him of he can't immediately say. Just when he thinks he knows, that's when the bottom finally arrives and crashes down, sending that thought and all others skittering away, nothing more than silent sparks in the grasping dark.

* * * * *

"Well," Solo said, flicking a few more switches and getting the same placid beeping results that the first four had told him, "I've been over the old girl twice now. It all checks out." He put his hand on his hips and looked around. "Yeah, we're good to go at any time."

Behind him Chewbacca was examining another console nearer the ceiling. His low growl seemed both acknowledgement and confirmation. And maybe something else.

"I know, I'll be glad to get the hell out of here, too." He stared out the window for a good minute, doing a mental exercise where he gauged what three dimensional shapes the stars would make once you factored in their relative distances. But every one he made seemed to consist of nothing but jagged points scratching at the void. "One black hole was enough for one day."

The Wookie came over to stand near him, leaned forward so that his head was craned over Solo's shoulder. It fired a burst of shredded roared sound at him, with perhaps a note of admonishment.

Solo both laughed and sighed, shaking his head even as he sat down heavily in the pilot's chair. "Yes, it _would_ have made more sense to perform a whiplash maneuver and fling the damn object into the black hole with the tether. I'm with you on that." A string of crushed consonants followed that statement. "It didn't occur to me, sorry! And you know I'm no good at that type of thing anyway, my timing's all off and skimming the top edge of a black hole isn't the best moment for on the job training."

Chewbacca spat out an elongated bark again. "Well, I didn't have much time to be clever, all right?" he answered with some mock indignation. "If you'd _been_ here maybe I would have been able to-"

Solo cut himself off, all expression fleeing. His friend spoke gently, almost a purr.

"I know, I know," Solo said quietly, waving away obstacles that didn't exist. "It just . . ." he stared out into space again. "Chewie, you all right? I mean . . . really? You feel okay?"

The Wookie answered with a moan that Solo seemed to take as an affirmative.

"Right, I'm turning into my grandmother," Solo muttered. "You've never even _met_ my grandmother." His eyes narrowed, added as an aside: "In fact, neither have I." Settling back further into his chair, he crossed his legs, resting his ankle on the opposite knee and pressing his fingers together into a sort of steeple. "I keep wondering what happened to him." He turned his head to stare up at his friend. "They took him, I guess, who knows why. And nothing I can do about it but still . . ." He trailed off, frowning.

Chewbacca bellowed again, a low interrogational rumble.

"No, he'll be fine," Solo said, straightening up in the chair. "Trust me on that, the guy can take care of himself, wherever he is. I wish you had gotten a chance to meet him, that would have been-" the Wookie interrupted with a stabbing pronouncement. "Yeah, you were otherwise occupied, I know. I _know_." Grimacing, he squeezed at his chin, a certain light leaving his eyes. "I'm sorry. Really."

His friend only answered with a burst of harshness, swooping and cut off.

Solo smiled. "Thanks. I tried. Though what was it like being trapped inside a block of crystal, it must have . . ." he stopped himself, shook his head even as he leaned forward to tinker with the controls. "Never mind, I don't want to know. Fortunately, I doubt I'll ever get to find out."

The Wookie's response didn't need to be translated.

"Right, let's go." A few more buttons and the ship's engines responded with an escalating hum as more lights began to blink into existence on the consoles. _My ship_. Solo didn't even bother to hide his grin. "I think we both need a vacation after this, I hear Zeltros is pretty nice this time of year. Actually, it's nice no matter what time of year it is." Chewbacca nodded, stalking over to the navigational computers. "Let's set a course for that, if we slingshot it right we can probably skirt the Kessel-"

He stopped, his grin growing wider as an idea came into his head. "Hey, pal," he said, tapping new coordinates into the system, "mind a little detour first?" The Wookie looked at him with a questioning tilt of the head. Solo's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Oh, nothing serious . . . just how do you feel about seeing what this baby can really do?"

Chewbacca's stuttered laugh was all the answer he needed.

"All right, then," Solo replied, stabbing the switch with a flourish and sitting back. "Let's go break a record."

The stars pulled closer to greet them, and they were off.

* * * * *

All that he'd been through and he _still_ didn't know where the hell he was.

But at least it was a place he could deal with.

"Another drink, gentlekind?" the rail-thin and blue man behind the counter asked him. Logan grunted and slid his empty glass back across the bar. The man tapped his wrist and a chute opened in his palm, disgorging more liquid into the cup.

He lifted the glass to ram the drink down his throat but stopped himself. Holding it up to his eyes he swirled the clearness of it around, just to see the motion. Then he took a more reasonable swig, putting the cup back down on the bar and cradling it between two hands.

His first plan had been to stay here and drink until his money ran out. But he didn't think that was going to happen. When he had ordered the first drink and the bartender had asked for payment, he'd experienced a tense moment of not being able to pay. It wouldn't have been the first time in his life that happened but he just wasn't looking forward to a brawl at this point. Not right now.

Fortunately he had reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of little plastic chips that the bartender had called "credits". He had taken one and stuck it in a tiny machine that immediately started emitting whoops. The bartender's ears had unfurled slightly and next thing Logan knew the being was almost his personal assistant.

That had been four hours ago. Now he was the only person left in the bar and the staff didn't seem about to ask him to leave.

When he had taken out the stack of credits a small note had fallen out onto the bar. Unfolding it, Logan saw that it said _Nobody works for free_. He had just crumpled it and tossed it onto the floor. How it had gotten there he wasn't sure but he had his suspicions. And Solo had nothing to do with it.

The reminder made him restless for some reason. He thought he would have enjoyed the relative quiet of the bar but it was starting to get to him. Pushing the hovering stool back, he caught the bartender's eye and said, "I'm going to finish this outside." The alien had the decency to look sad about that prospect, although his expression was alleviated when Logan threw another credit down onto the bar. Its chiming cheered cries were the last thing he heard as he pulled the door shut behind him.

The air outside was artificial, he could smell the difference immediately. It was clean but with a tinge of introduced gases, a bit too sterile for his liking. The cup seemed to get cooler the second he stepped out of the bar but he didn't finish it.

He didn't know what time it was, but it must have been late because the strip was empty, with nothing but floating lamps to provide any kind of brightness. Even that was strained, shadows pressing in from all sides. There wasn't even any drunken bums launching into rambling songs, or thugs or anyone vomiting against the wall. Still, that was fine, he really didn't need the distraction.

Boots clicking quietly on the pavement, Logan walked over to the railing. Out and below and around was nothing but space. He leaned on it, trying to take the sight in, to get past the deception that it was all empty. It only looked that way, the stars nothing but pinpricks, the darkness between them so small and so distant all at once. But it was teeming, that was what had tricked him at first. The stillness and the headlong rush, able to exist at the same time. That was space. That was everything he hated and what he was slowly starting to admire about it. The stars seemed to be thrown against the background at random but maybe if you stared at it long enough there was a pattern. Or maybe the pattern wasn't real, but could be imposed. Something about that appealed to him.

He looked for Earth but there was no way to tell. He'd have to get back eventually. And elsewhere, there was a broken ship and maybe some answers. Already, he had his work cut out for him. That was fine.

Until then, could he live out here? The dark gave him no kind of answer. A life of wandering, with no place and no destination? What had the man said? _Anything can happen, more than anything_. Staring out at the expanse of it, he could certainly believe it was big enough to hold nearly everything. On his terms, it could be a good life. He could certainly get used to it. Maybe even like it, after a while.

_Yes_. With a sardonic grin, he raised his glass toward the sky. "Are you ready?" he asked no one at all.

But as he prepared to knock it back, a voice off to his right spoke.

"Logan."

The sound of it, measured and smooth, nearly sent a spasm down his back. The squeak of wheels that followed was almost too much to bear. Hardly daring to look, he glanced anyway.

It was them. He felt his heart clench and told himself it was the wound still healing. It wasn't, he knew that. It was all of them, the professor in his wheelchair, the thin man with eyes like narrowed suns, the woman with the hair like flames and a mind that could pull down buildings. All of them, the large brilliant furry man and the small rapid furry man, his tail whisking against the ground. Every single one . . . _except._ He tensed, thinking someone was missing, but . . . no, there she was, toward the back and staring at him shyly, her quiet breathing a bellows to him. _You all made it_. He leaned further against the railing, exhaling a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

The small furry man spoke, laughing around his thick accent, "_Verdammen_, my friend, you are not an easy man to find."

Logan only nodded, not trusting himself to speak for a second. _I thought you were all gone._ The stars stared down without judging. _I thought this was all I had left_. And yet.

The man in the wheelchair glided just a fraction closer. "Logan, let's go home."

_Home._ Logan looked up finally, one last glance at the sky, at all the people and motions scurrying about in it that he couldn't see. _It would have been interesting_. He turned his head a little to hide his grin. _Wouldn't it?_

"In a minute," he said, holding his drink up, "just let me finish this."

**THE END**

April-September 2008  
MB  
RP


End file.
